Memento Vitae
by 0atis
Summary: Santana has been a slave most of her life so when she is sold from her longtime home into the King's service she felt she knew what to expect. However upon arrival she finds that her position as the Princess' caretaker is more ominous than it seems. War brews on the horizon as she learns the truth about the Abrams kingdom and that carefree lives of the royals are anything but.
1. Chapter 1

Memento Vitae

* * *

Disclaimers:I want to warn that this story takes place in the (fictional) middle ages and does contain abuse and violence. I personally do not think anything in the story is overly descriptive or honestly warrants a trigger warning but what I don't think is that bad could be too much for others. I venture to say if you can handle watching any historical film on feudalism or slavery then you'll be fine.

* * *

Although her past had always been rather spotty, Santana knew exactly when everything had gone to hell; it was at the peak of the summer season when the sun had become its most unforgiving. At the time she was only ten years old, it was the first in an infinitely long list of days that would lead her to hate her life.

Her mother and father were healers from the Far South and did their work from their home on the outskirts of a nameless town, owned by a feudal lord whose name and face she had never known. The town was small, quiet and full of other families from the same land as her parents. During the day, they worked and she was taught reading and writing in the language of her parents' home land as well that of the North. She worked hard and excelled in her studies to make them happy, and they were; above all else she could remember how proud they were of her.

There were nights when the townspeople would get together and dance dances from the homeland they left in colorful outfits. She danced with boys and girls her age, though she was the only child who could do it as well as the adults. It made her father laugh to see her dancing almost aggressively with the boys, leading them in the steps even though they were supposed to. Those parties, her father's laugh, bits of her various studies; years later that was all she could remember clearly of the past. That and the night the raiders appeared and destroyed it all.

Santana had been asleep when she heard the first shouts outside her bedroom window. She sat up just in time to be knocked back by a blast that destroyed the wall of her room as well as her hearing. The next thing she was aware of was men pouring into the house like water, destroying or stealing everything they could get their hands on. One yanked her off the floor where she had fallen, dragged her back out through the hole they had made and to the yard. Laying on the grass, the muddy boot of her captor keeping her down, she was cold, confused, scared and, after her unceremonious trip through the rubble, bleeding.

She could hear more shouting from the men that had entered her room and soon it was mingled with her mother's screams and angry bellows from her father. Her parents were pulled out on the front lawn, both still wearing their night clothes. The faces of the men all blurred together - in the darkness even that blur was hard to make out - but she saw them beating her parents clearly enough and it was impossible to miss the sounds of pain and cracking bones.

The man that pinned her down lifted her easily and threw her towards her mother who lay on the ground barely moving, the others began to grab at them in a way that Santana found more than alarming. For the first time since it had all begun, she screamed at the top of her lungs, she screamed so loud it hurt even her ears. At the sound of his daughter in distress, her father stood as if revived from the dead and was able to take down three of the men surrounding her even with a broken arm. As the others turned to attack him, he screamed at her to run and she did, she ran faster and harder than she ever had in her life into the thick woods surrounding their home. She ran until her home was a flicker of light in the distance behind her and it was only then that she felt it was safe to slow down. The main town was too far away in the opposite direction to run to, so she stood, helplessly watching the orange light she knew, even from that distance, was her home burning to the ground.

It was the morning light peaking through the trees made her brave enough to dare walk back. When she finally arrived she was horrified to see her house completely missing, in its place was a pile of blackened, smoking rubble and in front of that two very dead, very mutilated bodies.

She sat at the edge of the clearing in the woods and just stared, too shocked and horrified to cry; there was no way to even begin to cope with what happened, so she just sat there.

A long time later the local authority came by with a few men from the fire brigade, none of them seemed surprised; theirs hadn't been the only home attacked. When they found Santana, it was decided, rather quickly, that as an orphan in a ravaged town which was now suddenly overflowing with them, the best option was to sell her. It didn't matter that her parents had provided aid to almost every one of them, nor did it matter that everyone in town had known her since she was an infant, they sold her to a passing merchant for two gold pieces.

That was all Santana really remembered about the raid; the specifics, her parents' faces or those of her attackers, had she even ever been able to see them clearly, were immediately forgotten, because she refused to relive that pain for even one second. Still, on many nights for years after, she would cry herself to sleep over it.

Unfortunately, in the middle of forgetting the bad things she forgot most of the good, and soon she not only couldn't recall how her parents looked on that night, she couldn't remember what they looked like at all, nor could she call to mind anyone she had grown up with. It was all swept away, save for a few remaining fuzzy moments floating in her mind like leaves on a pond.

For many seasons she was sold and traded further and further into the eastern parts of the land until she found herself well inside King Abrams' territory. No one had much use for a small, foreign looking girl who refused to talk, except those who liked to abuse children. In those homes she never cried, she just wore her hatred for every one of her owners like a cloak to keep the piling misery from breaking her. It was when she was with one particularly old and disgusting man, who had the repulsive habit of rubbing her thighs when he wasn't up to more inappropriate things, that she was lost to a tall, blonde man with an unusually large mouth in a card game.

In the seasons since her parents' death Santana had been through many types of hell, from owners who found sick pleasure in the body of a child to the sadists that just wanted something to hit, but as owners went the Evans' were a decent lot. The family wasn't rich, so even though she was very much their slave and was treated as one, they worked and even ate alongside her. Most importantly, there was Sam, the youngest son of six children.

When Santana had first arrived at the Evans' vineyard, she had been bitter and angry, but also terrified, meaning she continued not to speak to anyone. For almost a whole cycle of seasons she never said one word, but the whole time Sam talked to her like she was his best friend. His other siblings had so many things to do all the time to help keep their vineyard running, they never had time for him so she really was his only companion.

Since they were the same age they did everything together and not because she wanted to, but because he followed her everywhere. At first it was irritating; the boy talked nonstop about all kinds of things, from his hopes and dreams to the new inventions they were making in the Far West. After a while however, she warmed up to his presence and one day spoke to him; of course her first words were 'Your lips are odd, but kind of cute.' He had smiled widely at that, which was truly something to behold, and from that moment on they were quite close.

Once Santana decided to begin speaking, she also began to speak her mind which got her lashings on an almost regular basis. The beatings should have been enough, but her brief life of freedom had given her a rebellious streak that could not be contained forever. However, after a while Mister Evans didn't have time to keep up with all of her back talk and just began to ignore her as long as she did her work. Though from time to time she would say something that even he couldn't let slide. Eventually, thanks to Sam's pleas, she learned to temper her mouth and keep her comments to herself.

Season cycles continued to pass and as they did little changed, except Santana lost all her childish charm, replacing it with a sultry beauty and Sam seemed to change into a strikingly handsome young man overnight. One who hadn't forgotten she thought his lips were cute. When they matured it wasn't long before he stole his first kiss, sitting on the branches of a tree overlooking the vineyard, and little time passed between that first, innocent kiss to more intense adult explorations and that inevitably led to a sexual relationship, one that was carried out in complete secrecy. Santana had never found sex a pleasurable activity, maybe it was because she had been too young to enjoy it properly, but with Sam she could see why people did it at all. A fact she shared with him. She hadn't understood why he had seemed so sad about it since it was meant as a compliment.

Their sexual relationship eventually ended when Sam's mother, Elisa, had walked in on them one night in the shack out behind the house that Santana called home. They had both known that what they were doing wouldn't go over well with his parents, even though no one had ever expressly forbidden it. That was probably why when they imagined the outcome for being caught it fell under prolonged versions of punishments they were familiar with. This was not the case.

Santana had lived with many different men and women in her time as a slave, all had varied forms of punishment, some drastic for minor offenses and some more strange than painful. She had been beaten plenty of times, sometimes so badly she could hardly walk, the cruelty her owners could show was no surprise to her. But with the Evans', with Sam, everything had been different, even when she got lashings for mouthing off from Sam's father; it was more of a strong spanking with a belt over cloth that stung more than anything else. Elisa had been even gentler than he, never whipping, but only offering strong reprimands and she seemed deeply troubled when her husband disciplined Santana.

It had made her feel a little warm towards the family that held her hostage.

It was also what made what happened that night so much worse.

Elisa, who Santana had never seen lift a hand to swat a fly, had dragged her naked from her shabby home, tied her to a tree and beat her back bloody. It wasn't the worst thing to happen to Santana by far, she had been punished worse for less, but she had always felt safe with the Evans', especially Elisa, and the beating she got was vicious enough to remind her that she was a fool to feel safe anywhere.

Sam had scrambled to dress himself following his mother, begging her to stop, but soon his brothers woke from the commotion and she ordered them to take him away. It left her free to beat the lesson in further, to strip the skin until she was hitting muscle, to etch into this orphaned slave's very bones that she would never have the right to lay with her son.

Afterwards, Sam was forbidden from ever seeing her alone again and his siblings looked at him like he had been caught having sex with the dog, but it didn't stop him from sneaking to Santana in the night with ointments to heal her wounds. She told him to stop, begged him to never be seen alone with her, but he refused to leave, and when she told him how she would be beaten more if they were caught his face darkened and he swore he would fight every member of his family to the death before he let them do that to her again. It was that, his words and unwavering sincerity, that kept her from hating him like she had convinced herself to hate everyone else.

After she had healed, Sam still visited her even though she had denied him every time he had tried to make an advance on her. They would merely sit and talk about the things they couldn't when being watched over by his parents while they worked together. Things like his burning desire to see the ocean - he had heard men speak of it and wondered how anything on earth could be as vast as the sky. Santana doubted it was as grand as he was making it out to be, but listened anyway. She told him about her long ago dream of being a healer like her parents, it was a look into her past that she did not mention lightly, one he understood she wouldn't share with just anyone. Once Sam even told her that when he made his own way in the world he would take her away from his parents and they could live together without fear. Santana found that sweet and endearing, but she knew better than to hope, she knew his mother would marry him to a lady of reputable station and all talk of them being together would fly away with the wind.

Time left Santana feeling a change after the end of her sexual relationship with Sam, he had awoken a hunger in her she had never known or needed to deal with. However, with him being the only male she could even fathom wanting to be with and also being completely off limits she could only turn to herself in the quiet of the night to deal with the urges she had. For a while, she thought it was helping until those moments where she would see Sam's older sister Stacy bounding around the yard and the idea of kissing her would randomly pop up in Santana's mind. It unnerved her thoroughly, but after some thought she calmly decided that it was because she and her brother had similar lips. She sort of ignored it when she saw his oldest brother, Steven, visiting from his time in the king's service, and although he too had a similar facial anomaly she didn't have the slightest desire to kiss him.

Again time slipped by and Stacy was married to a tall, handsome man from a neighboring town, meaning she left and Santana didn't have to deliberately not look at her anymore, and it kept on going until Santana reached the age of twenty. It was then, exactly ten years after her world had been turned upside down that it was turned again.

* * *

It was another scorching midsummer's day when Mister Evans approached her and Sam as they hauled empty barrels from the storage area to the stomping yard. He called them both over and as Santana approached, she realized that he looked older and more haggard than she had ever seen him. His hair had been losing its gold color in the passing seasons, but now it looked almost white and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Sam noticed this too and was the first to speak, "Father? What's wrong?"

He didn't look at his son, or her, he just sort of gazed blankly at some random point in space just over their heads, "It's over Sam. We have to sell this land."

"What?" Sam whispered.

Santana just stood there shocked, they had fought tooth and nail to keep every acre and every mouth fed that lived on it, why in the world would he want to sell his land now?

"I received a letter some time ago and have done everything I can to fight and bargain, but there is nothing that can be done. King Abrams is leaving to begin conquests overseas and he wishes to convert the land surrounding his kingdom into battlements to better protect his castle when he leaves."

"He can't just do that!"

The older man chuckled, "He's the king, he can do as he likes."

"What about us?"

"I suppose Steven will accompany the king to this new land, and they plan to recruit all the boys that are of age meaning you will either join him or return here as a soldier… after this has all been destroyed." Seeing his son's ire rising, he sighed, "I understand your feelings, trust me son I have them as well, but there is nothing we can do but leave or prepare to face the king's guards armed with nothing but empty wine barrels."

The young man sighed in a way that showed he grudgingly saw the sense in his father's decision, "We should leave then." He turned to Santana with a relatively small smile - his mouth could only contract so much. "We should pack then."

He gave his son a meaningful look, "Actually, we can't afford to take her with us," both Sam and Santana turned to look at the older man with wide eyes, "In exchange for a few more days to leave, I sold her into the king's service. He'll even provide transportation for her to get there, so we don't lose time in moving out."

"But Santana's been part of our family for years."

He looked at the dark-skinned girl who was staring back with burning brown eyes and shook his head, "You are my youngest son and yet I have apparently neglected you too much to have you think that a slave is ever actually a part of our family. Make no mistake Sam, bedding her makes her no less of a slave," he said firmly.

Sam's face went red, "Wha-"

"It's already done," and with that, Mister Evans turned and walked away.

He looked over at her with a horrified face, "How…how can he just say that?"

"I'm not surprised by people anymore," Santana said coldly even though on the inside she was screaming.

"This isn't right," he said angrily looking after his father's retreating form.

She didn't say anything until she saw him move deliberately to follow the older man, she grabbed his arm, but only briefly as she glanced at his mother in the distance watching them carefully as always. "Don't. You're always telling me not to pick fights, don't you go doing the same."

"Picking a fight?" he looked at her confused, "If that's so, then I think this is a fight worth picking…," then he stopped and a wounded look crossed his features, "Don't you want to stay with me?"

"I do, but it's a fight you can't win and you don't need to make an enemy out of your family right now."

He looked after his father and then back at her desperately, "I don't want you to go."

"I'll be fine," she said, pulling out her old cloak of stony hatred that Sam had somehow gotten her to remove despite her current situation. With it she could look him in the eyes and lie to his face without breaking down in tears, "I'll be fine wherever I go, you don't have to worry about me."

Seeing her resolve made him straighten up and nod, but he still pulled her close in a hug that almost shattered her cloak on contact.

* * *

A carriage arrived to pick her up within the week and she climbed in without so much as a backwards glance. Sam, despite her constant reassurances that she would be alright, had tried to be comforting to her every moment up until this one and even now was shooting her encouraging looks; she ignored them all, because she didn't want to cry the whole trip.

But as the carriage pulled away it turned out to be impossible to not even glance back at the place that she had called home for so long. When she was sure she had traveled far enough for everyone to have gone, she turned in her seat and looked out the back window. There she saw the vineyard outlined in the sunset and Sam standing stock still in the middle of the road. She tried not to miss him, to not have an urge to run back and hug him one last time for being the only good thing in her life after everything else had gone up in smoke, but like looking back it proved to be a futile thing to fight.

She allowed herself one last glance before she turned around, jaw set in a determined clench to take the focus off the tears prickling her eyes.

That was the last time she saw Sam Evans.

The carriage carried her across the bright, lush farmlands and into a vapid stretch of land that seemed to go on forever. The closer she traveled to her destination, the more impoverished the area seemed to become; even the earth looked less alive. A look that mirrored her own feelings as she was carried further and further from the life she had known and more so when the small loaf of stale bread she had been allowed to take ran out. The bleak landscape went on that way until the end of the second day of travel, when sun had almost completed its journey into night. It was then that Santana woke from a deep, listless sleep just in time to see the world suddenly light up again.

They had come to the top of a steep hill and below was what Santana was tempted to think of as a paradise upon first glance. In the distance was an enormous castle, bathed in the red of the setting sun and the gold, white and blue hues coming from unidentified sources, hidden by the large wall that surrounded the entire structure. The castle was leagues away, yet was clearly bustling with life even at this late hour, smoke rose from the chimneys and the very faint shadows that could be seen from the rising light danced with the movement of figures below. And for a brief moment from her position on the hill she saw something bigger, something wider and more endless, and as the carriage carried on towards the bottom of the hill she realized she had gotten her first glimpse of the ocean.

The sun had completed its descent by the time she had moved close enough to make out anything more definite about her new home. One of the first things she realized, was that there was a town right outside the gates that had been hidden from view by the all encompassing shadow the castle cast. The town was actually quite large and seemed to be completely untouched by the poverty of the lands surrounding it. However, it was quiet and seemingly embracing the darkness that shrouded it; the people were still and the night was quiet.

The moment the castle gate was opened the world changed, color and light spilled from the open door and Santana was pulled into a bustling city that seemed a mirror of the one just behind her.

This was the city of the king. This was where the wealthy came to live and die in the riches they had acquired.

Nearest the entrance were endless streets of shops, some closed as they were clearly to be frequented in the day, but many more were open selling spirits, food and women. The carriage pulled her through streets full of venders selling only the most high-quality wares, their stalls lit with lanterns covered in colored paper that splashed the streets in bright blues, golds, and reds. Every now and again she could see a person in garb unbecoming of such a wealthy town and assumed them to be slaves on an errand for their masters. They passed other carriages on the wide, well-paved road on their way past the lively nightlife and to the residential area beyond where she saw the largest houses she had ever seen; until this moment Santana hadn't known they could be built more than three floors high.

The lights from the lanterns in the streets and the ones from the rowdy businesses behind them cast everything in an unusual light, making her journey to the castle even more surreal. Especially now, since she couldn't see the top of it any longer. Not even if she craned her neck back.

They came to another gate, but this one was heavily guarded and the driver had to stop and talk to one of the armored men standing vigil before they could pass. It seemed to take forever for the heavy iron gate to lift, but once it was high enough to clear the carriage it moved forward and gave her an uninhibited view of the castle itself.

To her surprise, it was even more alive than the town had been, though it was only servants and a few soldiers that could be seen moving around.

The carriage came to a stop by a large stone archway where she saw a handsome man with skin tone similar to her own, he was well dressed and if he weren't here late in the evening in such an unsavory place she would have assumed he was high born. Unsure of what she should do, she sat completely still and was startled when the driver yanked the door open and threw her belongings out on the ground before almost tossing her out as well, but the man stopped him looking irritated.

"We'll have none of that," he said briskly as he pushed the driver away and extended a hand to Santana.

She took it and climbed down, feeling a wide array of feelings all at once having actually set foot on castle grounds. Mostly she felt stiff and hungry from constant uncomfortable travel with only two breaks to relieve herself and having run out of food the day before. Quickly, she gathered her bag of meager belongings off of the ground and stood waiting for the man to finish glaring at the driver as he climbed back up into the carriage and rode off.

Shaking his head slightly the man turned back to her and extended his hand, "You must be the woman from the Evans estate. I am Matthew Rutherford." When she only nodded quietly he raised an eyebrow, "And you are?" She only frowned back; he smiled slightly, "They didn't bother to provide me with your actual name."

"Santana," she said quietly.

"Lovely, it hails from the lands in the Far South, if I'm not mistaken."

She shrugged; she had no idea where her name came from, "I'm not sure."

"Well, Santana as much as it pains me I won't be able to stay with you long, I know upon first arrival it is preferable to not be passed from person to person, but that is what must happen here," he said turning to walk as he talked to her. Disoriented, Santana allowed him to get several steps away before she realized she was supposed to follow. "You are to be a lady in waiting to the princess, your duties and how to do them will be explained by Tina, she served the princess for many years before you and you would do well to heed her council, er, should she be inclined to give any."

The name and Matthew's ambiguous statement about her left Santana feeling quite uneasy, but as was her habit in a new place she displayed no sign of being disturbed. They walked from the stone archway down a long hallway full of doors, Matthew began explaining where each one went as they passed and slowly it dawned on her that she was going to get lost.

And often at that.

"This one goes to the kitchens, this one to the stables, this one to the blacksmiths and the armory, though I don't see you having much use for it. This one is to the gardens and these lead to the royal hall where our illustrious rulers live, this one goes to the observatory," he rattled off quickly hardly giving her a chance to take in the information, "In the corners are the doors that lead to the four corner towers that serve as servants' sleeping quarters. The one for those who serve the royal family directly is on the right, but fear not this will all be explained when- ah! Tina!" he exclaimed upon seeing a woman in a white blouse and long, black dress approach.

Santana had varied experiences with foreigners, on the whole they tended to be nicer as they held none of the prejudices that those born and raised in this land did. In her youth she liked to be near adults that were from far off places since they were generally less inclined to beat her, most of the time anyway. Her time seeking them out meant she could immediately tell that this woman hailed from overseas though she wasn't sure from where exactly. However, there was nothing about her face that made Santana think that if she were still a child she wouldn't receive a firm backhand for some small blunder - maybe only her parents had been from overseas. Tina's eyes were hard, cold and piercing with a challenging ferocity that made Santana want to look away, but she didn't, she refused to show weakness of any kind to these people, slave or not.

With a flourish, Matthew presented the surly woman before him, "This is Tina. She will be your guide from here," he said and backed away, seemingly disappearing into the shadows.

"This way," the woman grunted before turning on her heels and marching to one of the doors Santana barely recalled led to her new sleeping quarters. "There are three things to remember: do not get in the way, do not get lost, do not anger the royals or the understeward."

Her heavy accent meant she hadn't been born on the mainland. It also meant, though she was well spoken, that she was hard to understand, so Santana only nodded and broke into a small jog to keep up.

"The king and queen's chambers are at the far end of the north tower, the prince and princess are nearer to us. You are never to use the main halls to travel from one place to another, only the back stairways. The only time such a thing is permitted is when you are accompanying a royal from one place to another."

"How will I know the difference?" Santana asked breathlessly as they began to climb a daunting number of stairs.

"You will know."

The stairwell was tall and twisting, leading them to a long hall full of doors that all led to more stairwells. It became quickly apparent that the routes they were taking were extraordinarily long as the sensible path had already been occupied by the royals, so the servants had winding halls and stairs built around it so as to be both out of the way and aesthetically pleasing externally. From the ground the tower hadn't been that far away, but they walked up what felt like a never-ending supply of stairs.

They seemed to ascend forever and then, absurdly, the stairwell led them back down and into another short hall almost just like the one she had just left, the only outstanding difference was that this area was incredibly well kept. The stone walls were a much lighter grey and the wooden steps were arrow straight and made from sturdy, well-treated wood. Candles in fine holders replaced torches and there was soft carpeting underfoot.

When they stopped, Santana was exhausted and battling between falling to the floor in agony to cradle her burning calves and just plain falling to the floor in the hope that her body could somehow manage to get enough air, because gasping for breath didn't seem to do the trick any longer.

Tina watched her pant for a moment before walking to one of three doors in the small, dank hall they had reached and waited impatiently. Santana managed to stay on her feet and trudged over to where the other woman stood.

"This is the royal's passage," she said opening the door and showing Santana the long hallway beyond that was clearly in the heart of the castle, there were paintings of past kings hanging one after the other. There were golden chandeliers lighting the hallways and velvety carpeting on the floor. It was like another world. When Tina closed the door again the small hallway she had been so impressed with seemed almost dour.

Pointing to the remaining door she continued, "Understeward Karofsky sleeps there, he is in charge of all servants except the king and queens', but is in charge of all discipline. Again, do not cross him, he gives pain happily, do not give him a reason."

Santana knew the type and decided to make herself as invisible to him as possible. Tina opened the remaining door and revealed a room that looked more like a stable than sleeping quarters, individual living spaces separated by stone walls, a bed and nightstand with a single drawer marking each one. There was something like a gate at the front of them that went about chest high, which she supposed was some sort of door that would only prove useful if one were modest during changing.

To the far side of the room there was a drawing table by a small window, which she found odd since in her experience slaves weren't taught to read, write or draw. Even with all the years of schooling her parents had given her she could only remember how to read a little of the common tongue.

"Are we expected to write?" Santana asked in trepidation as she eyed the small table.

"No, that is for Matthew," Tina replied shortly as if the question had been insultingly stupid, "We eat in the morning before we greet the prince and princess and we eat at night after they have gone to bed. It is time for supper, we must head back."

"Now?" she asked reflexively, her legs hadn't stopped burning yet.

The woman became immediately exasperated, "Whenever you feel like," she snapped before leaving Santana completely alone in the dark room with no idea where the dining hall was or how to even go back the way she came.

Turning, she saw that of the stalls that lined both walls only one on the end seemed available, so she trudged over to it and tossed her bag on the ratty bed.

Sitting, she rubbed her burning calves and tried to figure out what to do. She needed food, she hadn't eaten for quite some time, but those stairs made her want to wait it out. Then again the morning was sure to be full of all new, far more confusing things so it seemed best to figure out where to get her day's rations now.

With a heavy sigh she stood and began to retrace her steps, hoping to at least make it back to the main courtyard. And in no short amount of time she was completely lost.

The winding staircases took her all over the castle, at least that was what she figured from the various views the few windows she passed provided. In desperation she opened random doors looking, hoping to find someone who could help or, hopefully, the dining hall. Most doors led to more stairs or another hallway with more doors and occasionally they opened up into the royal's hallway, which she took special care to not set one toe on. She walked until her legs felt like fire, until she was sure she must be halfway back home. Then, finally, a door opened up that led her outside into the night, but it wasn't at all a place she wanted to stumble upon.

There was a wide circular courtyard with a sizeable structure in the middle, set level with two large, ornate chairs set to have a bird's eye view of the platform across from it. She knew the chairs were for the king and queen and she knew the structure was an executioner's block.

At the top was a man, apparently attempting to disassemble the apparatus which was somehow a small comfort.

She worried for a moment if this man might be Karofsky, but then decided one way or another she needed to find out and since she hadn't seen another living person for quite some time, he was her last hope of making it back to her room before the sun rose again.

Not wanting to cause offence if this was indeed the understeward, she made her way up and announced herself as politely as possible, "Good sir, could you help me?"

The man jumped a little, clearly startled by her presence and turned to look at her, when his eyes laid on her figure a sly smile crept up his lips, "I surely hope so m'lady," he replied in the proper tone the nobles used, but with the affected accent of a born and raised slave. She realized she had merely stumbled onto a man finishing his daily work.

"Can you tell me where the dining hall is?" she asked.

He frowned, "For the royals or th' small folk?"

She wanted to make a smart remark about it being the 'small folks' dinner time now and make him take a guess, but seeing as how she needed his help she opted not to do that.

"Small folk."

"T'was a fool's question," he said in a fake lordly voice, "The food is long gone, love."

She scowled at the term, but forgot her anger at it in the dismay of having lost her chance for a meal, the hunger she felt before had become desperately ravenous, "I see," she sighed.

"No need to fret, I have friends in low places," he said with a smile that faltered after a few seconds, "Er, that is to say I know a few ladies who handle th' meals."

Santana didn't know what to make of the man, he was attempting to charm her, that much was obvious, and she was having none of it, but underneath his misguided courting he seemed like a kind person. She had learned long ago not to underestimate that quality.

"I could use a meal," she said tentatively, not sure if he were about to ask for something in exchange, but instead of making a fuss he leapt up and skillfully descended the scaffolding leaving Santana to stand alone atop the structure in the dark of the night.

It occurred to her that regardless of the reason, it was unwise to stand around on an executioner's block and was about to descend the stairs when she turned and saw the most breathtaking view.

From her position she could see over all of the castle, the outer court where the nobles lived, outside the castle gates to the city and beyond. The town gave way to trees and the trees stopped abruptly at a cliff face that dropped down into the ocean. She knew it was the ocean, because she had never seen so much water in her life, it went on forever and ever until it met the sky and they became one. The moon was reflected on the black surface like glass that had shattered into a million glittering pieces. Looking at it reminded her of those private talks with Sam, in a time that seemed so distant now it could have been imagined. Back then in her rundown shack when he told her the stories of water that went on forever, though she swore she didn't believe it, it had always fascinated her to think about what such a thing would look like. It was beyond anything she had ever imagined.

A cold gust of wind came in from the water and she turned her back to it, facing the other way she could see the hill in the distance that had afforded her an early glimpse of her new home. For a fleeting moment she wished she could be back on that road and traveling home, but she knew that was a pointless wish. She had no home, her home had burned to the ground and even the Evans' wouldn't be keeping their land.

Even if at this very moment she were set free, there was nowhere to go.

The thought saddened her and made her more weary than her journey up the never-ending stairs.

"One bowl of gruel for the lady." The man's voice sounded in her ear making her jump, but when she turned she was pleased to see he did in fact have a bowl of stew with a chunk of bread sticking out.

It wasn't in her nature to thank others, so she only took the bowl and asked, "What's your name?"

"Puck," he said grinning widely.

Using the hard bread as a utensil, she scooped some of the stew into her mouth letting the taste flood her senses.

If she hadn't been so hungry, she would have gagged.

"Are all the names here so strange?" she asked as her eyes watered from the bitter taste of her food.

His eyebrows shot up, "Slow down there miss, let's hear your name before ya start passing out judgments like that."

"Santana," she said, for some reason feeling irritated that she had to keep introducing herself.

He thought it over, then shrugged, "Actually that name is really nice, I have no comment."

As she hungrily downed several more mouthfuls of the foul food, Puck sat and patted the spot next to him. Santana didn't feel any better about being in such an ominous spot, but she was hungry and tired and just wanted to finish her meal. Quickly she sat so she could return to shoveling the gruel into her mouth and Puck watched her, completely amused.

"So, what other kinds of weird names have you been hearin' around?"

"Tina," she said thickly.

He chuckled, "T'aint even her name. Was Prince Archibald's dog's name before it was hers."

Santana didn't quite follow and didn't care enough to try and work out what all of that meant, "What's a lady in waiting?" she asked, now eating her bread as she had finished the stew.

He frowned, "Uh… a personal servant for the queen or princess, why?"

"I'm supposed to be one," she said after finishing the bread.

"You're the princess' new lady in waitin'?" he said, but not with surprise or awe, it was with an air of sorrow and pity Santana did not miss.

"Is that bad?"

"No…" he said cryptically, "T'aint bad just, maybe, difficult… Where are you from?"

His sudden change in topic made her blink and answer reflexively, "The Western lands, just on the border."

"Farm girl then, huh?" he asked, his eyes twinkling as if that meant something special.

"Vineyard."

His smile faded, "A vineyard? So you got any experience with birthin' live things?"

She met his confused look with one of her own, "Are we having the same conversation?"

Puck shook his head, "Nevermind, don't matter, kind of th' point anyway."

Deciding not to try and decrypt that either, she looked longingly down at her empty bowl, feeling sorry there wasn't more of the horrible tasting food in it, even as a sated weariness made her yawn, "Why are you out here on a butcher's block?" she asked absently.

"Takin' it down actually. Nobody was killed, was just up to help quell civil unrest."

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged, "Dunno, that's just what they told me when they had me build it. King Abrams ain't so bad, more bark than bite when it comes to his own, so I figure that's what this was about." She nodded sleepily and he elbowed her gently, "You look done in, want help back to your chambers?"

Santana attempted a response, but was stopped by another yawn. Puck smiled again and helped her to her feet. He guided her back the way she had come and through a hallway that may or may not have been the one she took to get there, she couldn't remember. All she did know was that when she saw the stairs her body rebelled, she dug her heels in and groaned in displeasure.

Puck seemed to understand as he chuckled and easily lifted her off her feet, she would have protested, but his help meant she could get to her rooms without having to do anything so she couldn't work herself up over the invasion of her space. She felt him chuckle once more when she relaxed into him, a sound that rumbled in his chest and tempted her to smile as well. However, she was still half asleep and unwilling to do anything but yawn again, so she did.

She didn't know who Puck was, what his job at the castle entailed or if he really was a slave. Whoever he was he did deliver her to her bed safely and left as silently as he came.

Sleep made short work of the remaining night, all Santana was aware of in the twilight between waking and dreams was that she missed home… she missed Sam.

* * *

A/N: Been working on this for a while. It's had a damn near endless number of rewrites and re-edits that took it from being set in space to this fictional earth setting and all the places in between. I have always known where this story is going (actually I knew the ending before I even knew what I wanted the main plot to be) so take my paw and let me take you on this journey :)


	2. Chapter 2

The morning woke her like a pot dropped on a stone floor, there was noise and bustling happening all around. Women were talking rapidly about various things Santana didn't understand before they dashed out the door, making her wonder if there wasn't something she was supposed to be doing.

Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she noticed that the sun hadn't made a formal appearance yet and from the look of things dawn was almost an hour away, maybe more. She wondered if there wasn't some sort of emergency before she saw Tina's face glowering into her stall.

"We need to eat, dress and be ready for the prince and princess. Come," she said shortly.

Santana had the urge to tell the woman off for leaving her like she had, but decided in the time before breakfast that wasn't best. Instead she leapt out of bed and scrambled after her guide who immediately looked insulted the minute she got close.

"You smell," was Tina's polite observation as they walked down the stairwell that now seemed positively crowded.

That normally would have earned the woman a sharp retort, but she _had_ last bathed before the long trip in a hot carriage and before she began a long night of running up and down endless stairwells.

"Where do I bathe?"

Tina sighed, "No time, you should have been up earlier to do so."

Santana glared, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I was bathing," she said shortly as she continued on.

Her very short temper flared, but she said nothing. Instead she followed Tina down a long winding staircase that led to another identical hallway and to a nondescript door, which took them into the slaves' dining hall.

Santana paused for a moment, taken aback by seeing all of the castle's slaves being gathered all at once. There seemed to be hundreds and hundreds of people filling the area and all of them were eating and talking boisterously. The noise seemed deafening and there was constant movement, either someone joining a table or leaving it, but the chaos seemed organized as there were no fights or anyone looking lost or out of place. Except her.

Quickly she noted that Tina had once again moved on without her, but this time Santana spotted her headed for the long line of people waiting for their food. She quickly joined, determined not to be lost again, grabbed a bowl and waited quietly. The line moved very swiftly and soon Tina had her portion and was gone, Santana watched which direction she headed off in carefully before she turned to get her own food. The man who served her was tall and stocky with a thick brow and black eyes that regarded her with suspicion, he scared her a little, but she held out her bowl and accepted what was served. Unfortunately, it was the same grey, unidentifiable gruel she had eaten for dinner, but the idea of requesting anything else was laughable, so she took off after Tina.

She found the woman at a table not too far away next to a man that looked remarkably like her at first, but she quickly decided that wasn't true. The shape of their faces were somewhat alike, but the man was obviously taller with short hair and more importantly his eyes were wide and kind, they possessed an almost innocent quality that put her at ease.

Refusing to be deterred by the look Tina gave her when she sat across from them, she began to eat her food quickly so as not to be left behind again, should the other woman finish before her.

"Hello," said the man smiling.

Santana nodded a response since her mouth was full of the bitter stew, Tina seemed to become even more aggravated by his attempts to talk to her.

"Well, if the fates aren't smilin' down on me!" exclaimed a familiar voice behind her. She turned to see Puck standing with a bowl of stew and a wide grin, "I woke this mornin' and was hopin' to run into you again."

"You know her?" the man next to Tina asked.

"Course! This is Santana, we're together."

A little of the stew dribbled out of her mouth in her haste to correct him, "Are not!"

He shrugged, "Worth a try."

The man laughed, "Greetings Santana, I am Michael."

She gave him another polite nod, noting his accent was the same as Tina's; maybe they were connected somehow, at the least they were obviously friends.

Before she could think to ask about it, Matthew approached and sat at her other side, "A good morning to you all," he said distractedly as he ate while reading a parchment in his hands.

Santana watched him do so with all the awe she would give a cat playing a fiddle while a dog danced to the tune.

"Matthew's th' personal aid to the prince, he reads and writes a lot," Puck clarified seeing her astonishment.

"I assume you are new?" Michael asked, she nodded and he continued, "What do you do here?"

"She's the new lady in waitin' for the princess," Puck said before she could open her mouth.

Michael's pleasant smile slipped and he gave her that same piteous look Puck had the night before, "Oh."

Santana felt worry and irritation flash through her at getting that reaction twice, "What?"

"Nothing," Michael said smiling again, but she refused to be so easily quieted.

"It's clearly not nothing."

Puck cleared his throat, "We just don't wanna scare you-"

"A fine job you're doing of it!"

"You are here to replace Jean," Tina said sharply, "She was a gift from the king; she died waiting to fulfill her true duty and you will most likely do the same."

With that she rose from the table and vanished into the bustling crowd before anyone could say anything else. Michael followed her and Santana scrambled to do the same, but the duo was much faster than she was and soon she was alone again. Desperate, she looked around and saw Matthew collecting her bowl and his own before joining her.

"Tina can be a little excitable at times, come I'll show you to the main hall. I have to meet the prince in his quarters, so I can only take you part way-"

"I can take her the rest," Puck offered quickly appearing at her side.

Matthew gave him a hard look, "Noah, you know you aren't allowed in the royal servants' tower."

"Never stopped me before," he said with a shrug.

The well-spoken man sighed and dropped their dishes off before returning and guiding her out of the noisy hall with Puck at her heels.

"Why is being a lady in waiting bad?" Santana asked again, unwilling to face her day's work without knowing the worst of what awaited her.

Matthew took a deep breath and ran a hand over his closely shaven head, "You see, the king is a rather demanding man and as a conqueror planning to go to a distant land he long ago started insisting his son produce an heir. This is unfortunate, because our illustrious prince seems incapable of doing so even after seven years of marriage, so as a bit of a taunt his father bought a servant for the specific duty of tending to his wife during pregnancy. The previous servant before you, Jean, was an elderly woman and died from the wait, you are her replacement. It means you will merely be one of her many ladies in waiting until such time as she can conceive."

"Which is never," Puck interjected earning him a stern look from Matthew as they began to climb a long winding staircase.

"And," the other man pressed on, "You will be a daily reminder of how his manhood has failed him. Our prince is not a kind man and he suffers mocking poorly."

Santana took a moment to wonder if she had pissed off some deity somehow, "Maybe he just needs another wife?"

It was Puck's turn to rub his head, "Um, I dunno about another wife, but he tries other women pretty regularly and he's got no bastard children."

She sighed, "I see." It was an expression of resignation to her fate, if she were to be killed by some brat of a prince because he couldn't get his wife with child so be it. A fitting end to a terrible life.

"Don't worry yourself too much about it, just be aware your existence is a sore spot for our prince, so if the opportunity arises to make yourself scarce, do," Matthew said simply. "Well, this is where we part," he said gesturing to the hallway before them and then pointed to Puck, "Don't let this one get you into trouble."

With that he took off down a connecting hallway and was gone from sight, "Matthew speaks very well," Santana observed.

"He writes, reads n' everything's well," he chuckled as they began their ascent again.

"Isn't that odd? For a slave here?"

"I'd rather be called a servant, sounds less-"

"True?" she challenged.

"Less bad. Anyway, servants speaking good around here ain't really out of place since most are captured or traded from other lands where they were born free, like Michael and Tina, but even so he's different. He was raised to be Archibald's personal attendant, but his father wouldn't have his son spending his days with some stupid servant boy, so they taught him how t' speak proper and how to read so he could help Archibald with his schoolin'," he paused to look over his shoulder as if he feared his next words being heard, "What his father didn't know was teachin' a knowledge hungry servant to read and write and puttin' him with a lazy, little prince meant all the knowledge he should have, Matthew has. The prince relies on Matthew for everything, 'cause he never bothered rememberin' the things he was taught. I mean, he can read and write alright, but if there is somethin' more complicated he needs to know, all he has to do is ask his servant who is always at his side. Matthew also speaks a bunch of different languages, some I can't even pronounce, and he's the only person I know who understands numbers and maps but ain't a magister."

"What about you?" she asked, "Are you from a far away land?"

"Me?" he laughed, "Naw, born n' raised here, ma died givin' birth and my pa died in battle."

She frowned, "He was a soldier? And you were taken from him?"

Another laugh, "Never said they was married."

"Sorry."

"Don't be, I'm not. I get to live in an enormous castle full of the finest lady servants the land ever did see," he said eyeing her appreciatively.

Santana scowled slightly, "I hope you aren't following me around, because you are hoping, I will ask you into my chambers, some night," she panted, the stairs taking their toll on her.

"Kinda, but I know bein' new is hard enough and Tina can be a bit rough. She ain't always like that, but sometimes I wonder why Michael married her."

The news that they were husband and wife was quite shocking, but Santana had lost the ability to speak several steps back and focused on just breathing.

"Take it easy, you got a lot of stairs t' go for today," he said and gave her a small pat on the back.

"How much further to the top?" she asked in between gulps for air.

"Oh, we're here, just go through that door."

She looked at the door and questioningly back at him, "Then why…"

"The princess is sweet like sugar cane, but she can also be a handful, she'll have you running all over the place, just how she is."

Santana didn't like her already.

"This is where I gotta leave, not supposed to be up here," he said before backing down the stairs.

"Yet you were in my room last night."

"It was late and you were so cute and soft it was worth the risk to bring you all the way to bed," he laughed. Maybe at his own words or maybe at the way her face darkened at them, but she never knew as he left immediately.

Through the door, she finally recognized where she was, it was the small hall that led to the servants' and understeward's rooms, and the royal's hall. A quick check into the first showed her everyone to already be gone and knowing they were supposed to greet the royals, she quickly dashed to the door that led to their hall. She opened it to see several people lined up and spotting Tina confirmed that this was where she should be. Quickly, she slipped out and to the end of the line only to realize at the last moment that she had made a mistake.

Everyone else was dressed in a white blouse, black pants and a belt tipped with a silver buckle, save for Tina who wore a black dress. Santana, in her worn, moth-eaten trousers and dirty threadbare shirt that was thrice handed down through the Evans family, was horribly out of place.

Knowing how this could go she looked down the line to try and to identify Karofsky; it took her less than a second.

He stood at the opposite end of the line, a whole head taller than everyone else with a thick barrel chest and beady, angry, amber eyes. His clothes alone would have been enough to guess his status, his outfit was made of fine silks in colors that mirrored the hall's, the hand she could see was covered in rings as they rested on the handle of a sinister, well-used whip that hung from his belt. Standing there at attention, he paid no one else any mind and Santana was glad of that, she was clearly dressed as a low born family's outdoor slave, the difference was noticeable at a glance.

So there she stood, looking like the peasant she was when she saw the prince and princess approach. In a hopeless attempt to be overlooked she stared at the floor, but when a pair of shoes that looked like they cost more than her life was worth stopped in front of her, she looked up into an intense pair of stony, grey blue eyes. They were set in the pale face of a man with sharp features and slicked back hair. Santana immediately knew this was Prince Archibald; he looked like one, spoiled like his title inferred and uncomfortably odd like his name.

"Is there a reason there is a smelly dog dressed as a poor human in my hallway?" the prince asked Matthew who she just realized was standing next to him with an armful of parchment.

"Uh, my lord, this is Santana, the princess' new lady in waiting," Matthew said quickly.

"New?" he turned to Karofsky, "Brittany needs someone else to serve her? There are already ten too many people running around after her."

The large man turned his eyes to Santana, seeing her for the first time with slight confusion, and more than a little hate, then understanding came over him, "Oh yes, she is the replacement your father got you," he said. Karofsky, like most she had met thus far, had a thick accent, but his was much more pronounced in his speech pattern than in his words, all of his r's rolled in his chest reminding her of the rumbles of a growling dog.

"Replacement?" The prince looked around trying to work out who was missing.

"For Jean," Matthew supplied so quietly Santana wasn't sure he had spoken at all.

At those barely audible words the prince's face darkened and a sneer slid onto his features making him look more like a wild animal than a man, "Who told you to fill that position again? Because I know I gave no such order," he snapped at Karofsky.

"The king," the burly man replied.

"Of course it was," his eyes were so dark in that moment he looked like he might literally breathe fire, "Well, why is she dressed like this?" he asked vehemently.

"This is her first day and I believe she may not have been able to fit into the clothes provided," Matthew said making up an excuse, because Santana knew she had never even been shown the clothes she was to wear.

"Next time don't invite a servant of this castle to stand here until they are properly dressed!" the prince snapped at the large man, ignoring Matthew entirely.

Santana knew a first impression could be wrong, but she doubted it. In this case, she was quite sure, what she saw now was the sum of this man. Then, as he moved out of her space, her vision was filled with bright blue eyes set into a face she knew was smiling, because the eyes were.

This had to be the princess, though more than anything her clothes gave that away. She wore a long, flowing red and gold gown that matched her husband's top and pants in color and style. However, even without that obvious visual cue she had the smiling, relaxed face of one who had never known a worry or care in her life. Her blonde hair reminded her of Sam and it made her chest twist with the pain of loss. The princess, not knowing Santana's inner turmoil, took her hand and shook it, surprising her out of her memories.

"Hello, Santana! I can't wait to get to know you! I hope you like working for me!" she chirped.

Santana was shocked, not even from the Evans' did she hear such talk, it was as if she were a worker who would be getting wages and allowed to quit if she so desired.

"Brittany," Archibald said, his face contorting as though he was in pain, "Don't touch it until it's cleaned and stop acting like a commoner, there is no need for it to like you or working for you."

"But I want her to," Brittany replied, shyly releasing Santana's hand.

She watched him scoff and start walking again, "Karofsky, get this straightened out," he said pointing to Santana, "And I swear if I see this happen ever again I will demote you to stable boy," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

At this Santana noticed the understeward look down the line at her and sneer, his golden eyes burning.

_That is just what I need._ She sighed internally.

Brittany gave an apologetic smile before she followed her husband. Santana watched her go, the princess seemed nice enough, but she had learned long ago seeming nice and being nice were two different things. Furthermore, the blonde with her bright, innocent eyes and easy smile rubbed Santana the wrong way. She couldn't help but dislike her, the way she was so happy to have Santana be her damn slave, the way her lack of fertility was going to more than likely cost her some skin, and the way she had never done a hard day's work in her life. The princess probably didn't even know what real work entailed. She was quite sure she would hate the prince and princess both more than she hated anything else in a very short amount of time.

Karofsky quickly ordered Tina to handle her clothing issue before he turned to bark orders at the nearest slave.

The woman practically glared as she said, "Follow me."

They walked back into their quarters and into Santana's stall where she pulled open the drawer on the dresser next to the bed, pulling out the attire of the royal attendants.

"I told you to dress after we ate," Tina said gruffly.

"How was I to know that was there?" Santana barked back.

"Get dressed," was the only reply she got before the other woman stepped out to give her privacy.

Hot with anger, Santana dressed in the oversized, odd smelling clothes and stuffed her own into her travel bag. She managed to spot a pair of worn, but fitting black shoes under her bed and refrained from making a cutting remark about not being told about them either.

When she stepped out Tina looked her over slightly and nodded, "That will do. You will receive more clothing later, now that we know these fit."

"Is there somewhere I can store my old clothes?" she asked realizing there was hardly room for more than four more articles of clothing in the drawer.

Shaking her head she led Santana out the door and surprisingly back to the winding stairwells, "You are going to want to throw them away."

"Do I have to?" she asked, not wanting to argue, but they were hers, what did it matter anymore?

"No, just don't let the prince spot them ever again, even if they aren't on you."

"Good to hear he's reasonable," she quipped.

Tina stopped walking and looked angrily at her, "You don't want to make jokes about him, because it will get not only you, but everyone around you in a lot of trouble."

"Right," she said abashedly.

The stairs brought them down to ground level and Santana recognized the stone archway that she had seen when she had arrived the previous night.

When they were within a few feet of it, Tina stopped and turned, "You need to meet the princess in the royal dining hall. She sits opposite the prince, so you must enter from the west, use that door," she said pointing vaguely to one of the many doors behind Santana and before she could turn around to try and make out which one was being singled out, the other woman continued, "We are both in danger of being late so I suggest you hurry," she said before disappearing through a door Santana _thought_ went to the kitchens, but possibly went to the gardens, she couldn't remember.

For a long moment she stood there, trying to figure out where she should go and eventually decided to pick doors until she got the right one.

She was shocked the royals hadn't finished their morning meal when she finally did locate the room, her eventual entrance into the dining hall was silent and unremarkable, but of course Archibald noticed.

The man was midway through the motion of lifting a mouthful of food to his lips when he caught the tail end of the sight of Santana slipping in and standing behind the princess along the wall at the far side of the hall. The prince's sharp eyes snapped to her and he beckoned to Matthew who stood just behind his chair.

"I thought I told Karofsky to get that one straightened out," he said when the other man leaned closer, his voice intentionally loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I apologize I'm not sure what happened, but…"

"Find him and have him deal with her. Properly this time," he snapped.

"I'm sure it wasn't disobedience, she probably just got lost. I've lived here for years and I still do that," chimed Brittany.

Archibald gave her a look that could freeze water and she turned her gaze back to her meal.

"What does it matter? Let the girl be," the queen said from her seat next to her husband at the head of the table.

Santana still hated every one of them, but she decided then and there that she hated the queen the least. She and the king sat in matching red velvet chairs trimmed in silver. Both husband and wife looked exceptionally regal and almost absurdly like their son, except the king had rust colored hair while his wife's was light brown.

"Mother," the petulant prince growled, "I will not have this castle run by lax, untrained servants. If I am to rule in father's absence I must have order."

The king looked bored and glanced over at his wife, "Let him do as he pleases; he's right, he needs to start acting like a leader if he plans to be one." It was clear that this particular matter didn't really have any bearing on anything one way or the other, this was just a matter of principle.

Santana did her best to not shoot a nasty look at Tina for leaving her behind and instead set her jaw knowing what was in store for her next.

She was forcibly led by one of the guards to the soldiers' training yard where Karofsky stood looking irritable as he watched the men train, his eyes dark and cloudy. The guard shoved her at him and turned away, she stumbled forward and he caught her in a vice grip looking at her like he had been delivered a particularly delicious meal.

The understeward led her into a small shack that looked like the kind of place where all manner of cruelty happened, there were horrible contraptions nailed to the walls that were all covered in what look suspiciously like blood. Though clearly he could speak the king's tongue, he crudely gestured for her to remove her blouse before he dragged her to a post in the middle of the room and tied her arms around it forcing her to hug the polished wood that smelled of blood and sweat.

This was nothing new, she had been beaten before and savagely at that, so when she heard him pull his whip from his belt she knew that there would be no warning before the lashings began. There was a soft tap as the leather hit the floor and she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw in preparation for the impending crack of the whip.

But it didn't come; for a long time there was only the sound of the men in the yard and the pounding of her own heart. More time passed and soon her legs were tired from the waiting and just when she was tempted to check and see if the understeward was still there it happened. The whip cracked across her back and made her scream from its sudden ferocity. She hadn't meant to scream, as a slave her silence was as defiant as she could be in the face of punishment, but he seemed to know that and had found a way to force it out of her.

She heard Karofsky chuckle, letting her know that had been his plan exactly, the whip cracked again, but this time she was able to swallow her sound of pain. Even though the strike had hit precisely the same spot making her legs tremble and made her vision waver. On the third she couldn't help it, she screamed again, with the precision of a tourney winning archer he hit the exact same spot and with how much it hurt she was sure her skin had split open and her guts were spilling out.

He whipped her again and again, picking random new places to torture, laughing uproariously at her cries before hitting her again, alternating his strikes between points of focus until they started to bleed. And only when she had passed out from the pain did he relent, only to strike her once more when she woke.

He untied her and threw her blouse to her before opening the door to the shack, "I'll be seeing you again I am thinking," he laughed before pointing across the courtyard, "Go to the healers before putting that on, bleed on that and you will be back sooner than you think."

Santana glanced at her blouse, then to the binding on her breasts, then to the courtyard full of soldiers between the shack and the healer's tent on the other side. When she didn't move Karofsky impatiently shoved her out into the open gaining the attention of all the men and earning her unwanted leering stares.

To her surprise, the understeward immediately commanded them all to return to their training, making her walk less shameful. She would have thought that her humiliation would have pleased him most of all, but maybe denying the men the right to look at an exposed woman was a torture of its own just not meant for her.

The sun was high in the sky by the time Santana limped away from the healer's tent covered in bandages and salves, only to be grabbed by one of the guards and returned to the princess' side. Unsurprisingly, she was expected to continue to carry out her duties after that beating even though she could barely walk.

The princess was waiting peaceably in the gardens, sitting happily by the pond swirling the water with her finger. Upon seeing Santana being returned to her side she leapt up and ran to her, "Hello again!" she said happily.

Santana was proud of herself for keeping the scowl off her face, "Hello, m'lady."

"Please call me Brittany!" she requested like a child asking for a treat.

"I don't think I should, m'lady," Santana replied cautiously. She knew better than to address a princess by her first name, but she also knew she shouldn't deny her a request.

"Oh," she said sadly before sitting back at the water's edge, "I can call you Santana, right?"

The brunette tried hard not to frown at the question, "You can call me whatever you'd like."

"Okay, Santana then," she said happily. "Do you like flowers?"

"I…" her frown deepened, in part because the question was silly, but mostly in frustration as she had never had enough down time in her life to form a real opinion of them, "They're pretty."

"They are! I want to make a necklace out of these," she said pointing to a patch of blue and yellow flowers, "But if I pluck them they'll die."

Santana felt her temper rise slightly; so these were the worries of those with no cares.

"Maybe you could have a jewel maker create one of gems."

She gave Santana an exasperated look, "Then it won't smell good."

"Have a perfumer spray it with a flower's scent."

"But they make the perfume out of flowers," she pouted.

Santana felt the muscles in her eye twitch in irritation, "The flower will die one day anyway, so why not now?"

"So will we, but it isn't our time. It's not right to kill things before their time," she said softly as she knelt before the flowers.

"Then I am as lost as you are, princess," Santana sighed, giving up trying to solve this unimportant problem.

"It is a puzzle, isn't it?" she said tilting her head to the side.

"Brittany, what the hell are you doing?" snapped an angry voice.

Turning, Santana saw the prince, flanked by Matthew and Tina, fuming at the top of the stairs that led into the garden.

"I was talking to Santana," she said smiling widely at the other woman as if she would happily concur the story.

He glared at her, "We are supposed to be at the stables getting ready to join mother and father on their ride!"

Abashed, she tucked her head, "I didn't know."

Turning his burning eyes on Santana he continued, "Why didn't you take her? You have to know she's about as daft as a brain addled donkey!"

"It is Santana's first day, sire, she had no way of knowing," Matthew said in her defense.

Archibald seemed to grudgingly accept that answer, though it was clear he would rather just indiscriminately dole out punishment, "Get her to the stables and in a saddle. Now!" he shouted before he turned. Santana was just thinking about how pleased she was to see him go when he turned around, "What is that?"

Following his eyeline she looked to Brittany's dress to see there were random, dark spots, inevitably water from when she had been splashing in the pool.

"Water, Majesty," Santana replied quickly.

"The princess has an event to attend in the company of the king and queen in public where all the kingdom may view her and you dare let her play in water?"

It was with a miserable trepidation that she realized that her first meeting with Karofsky would be nowhere near her last. The prince was clearly uninterested in anything but having her be sent off to be whipped, something even Matthew understood as he didn't even bother to mention once again that there was no way Santana could have known the princess' agenda or how to prevent her from playing in the pond even if she had been present for the action.

"I apologize, it won't happen again," it wasn't in Santana's nature to beg forgiveness, especially in the face of accusations this unfair, but her back was still pounding with pain and the idea of having that same abuse visited on her again so soon made her stubborn streak melt away.

Like with Karofsky her pleas seemed to please him, but unfortunately they went just as far in earning her any mercy.

"Have the guards make sure she is straightened out," the prince said casually to Matthew as he turned away again, "And tell Karofsky to be quick about it, I need the wench to have Brittany on a horse as soon as possible."

The apologetic look Matthew gave her did nothing for the feeling of dread that washed over her, in no time at all two guards appeared, one pulled her away while the other stood vigil over the princess, who, to her intense annoyance, waved pleasantly as she was dragged off.

Once more she was delivered to the large cruel man who brought her into the dank, hot shack she removed her blouse again, but was unable to reach the clasps on the wrappings that bound her wounds.

Without a word Karofsky undid them for her with almost loving care and folded each one neatly next to her blouse. When he had finished, he tied her to the same post; it was with a detached sigh she realized the tears from her first beating hadn't even dried.

As instructed he wasted no time, the lashes came swiftly and with even more force than the first ones had, he struck in random crisscross patters hitting new spots and often crossing over the old causing them to bleed anew.

She didn't bother trying not to scream.

Afterwards she left and was once again guided to the healer's tent where her back was patched up again, and again she stood, limping even more heavily now, to return to the princess.

Upon her return both guards left to presumably return to their posts, something Santana wished they hadn't done because she needed to get to the stables and had no idea how to get there.

"Do you know where the stables are?" she asked the blonde woman hopefully.

"Yes I do, I go all the time," she said and began to walk up the stairs she had last seen Archibald depart from, making Santana feel confident in the princess' sense of direction.

Something she very quickly realized didn't exist as they ended up at the castle gates.

Panicked, she asked several people, of which only one could be bothered to give her directions, but they were so complex she was soon lost again. They came to the hall of doors at the archway that Santana remembered from the previous night and she was relatively sure she knew which one led to the stables.

She was about to guide Brittany through the right door when she was stopped by two guards who easily could have been the same two as before, in their armor they all looked alike.

It was then that she was informed that it was a punishable offense to bring royalty through the servants' hallways and was immediately escorted back to Karofsky. This time even he seemed surprised to see her again so soon.

Upon her third beating, her body had mercy and decided to allow her to pass out after the third strike, but she was woken with a splash of cold, smelly, salty water to the face that burned every throbbing wound she already had.

Once more she was returned to the princess, thankfully now waiting in the royal's hall, but this time Santana managed to ask for directions and the guard gave them gruffly. When they reached the stables and she noted how close they actually were to the gardens given that she could see the top of the tree that grew there, her anger soared.

But when she saw Archibald's face as he greeted them, the anger turned to fear. He was standing next to an elegant, white mount that Tina held the reigns to and Matthew was nearby on a brown horse. The beast was clearly meant to look meager next to the prince's since it was not being ridden by royalty.

"Why did you even show your face? Mother and father have already left," he spat at Brittany, "I would have left you as well, but they seem to think it unbecoming of me to be seen riding without my idiot wife."

"Sorry, I got lost," the princess replied meekly.

"Isn't that what you're here for?" he growled at Santana.

"Apologies," she said because clearly reason was a lost cause.

Throwing his riding gloves to the ground, he turned to a guard stationed by the stable doors, "You!" he shouted getting the man's attention, "Take her to Karofsky and be sure to tell him to take his time in showing her why she should never let the princess be late again!"

With that he marched away and once again Santana was pulled away from her charge.

In the dank, dark shack she received one of the most brutal whippings she had ever gotten, not just from Karofsky, but from anyone. He allowed her no rest, passing out only resulted in a saltwater bath that made the following strikes more painful.

The only thing that got her through it was hate. A grim, determined hate that burned hotter with every crack of the whip; hatred for the simple-minded princess, for the insufferable prince and most of all for the pain-loving understeward.

* * *

A/N: The story is currently undergoing a rewrite so I'm not having to work from scratch, this means the early chapters will come out sooner. Next chap will start to reveal most of the things that have been hidden until now.

Considered going old school with the dialect but it would have added an element of difficulty to writing the story and, for some, to the reading. Though I do try and keep the character's level of schooling in mind writing their dialogue, and this is a fictional setting so I think it'll fly, plus most Glee names hardly lend themselves to this time period so please allow for the suspension of disbelief on these points ^.^

Reviews are always welcome, however try to hold off on passing judgment on any of the characters yet as most are than meets the eye.


	3. Chapter 3

The end of Santana's first day of work left her more bloody and bruised than she could ever recall being. Thankfully, she had gotten a small rest when Tina took over to assist the princess with her bath, she had no idea why the prince's slave was removed from her master to deal with the princess, but she didn't question it. The down time meant she got a small brake to sit and allow her wounds to stop screaming at her every move. However, once the princess was ready for bed that made moving that much harder.

Through some blessing she was able to find Tina and the princess to deliver her ward to her room where a multitude of other slaves awaited to put her to bed. Thankful, Santana had turned to find that she was alone in the royal's hall with no idea how to get back to the door that led to their quarters.

She wandered to the nearest exit, desperate to not be caught wandering where only the privileged were allowed. The hall was for slaves, but did not lead to her quarters. The stairs went on forever and each step made her back throb and sting, the pain became unyielding agony after a short time and soon she gave up, opting to practically crawl to the nearest landing, curl up in a corner and sleep on the hard, dirty, musty floor.

When she woke the next morning, it was to a boot in the back from a passing slave too busy to bother with why someone was laid out on the floor. Santana had woken in a silent scream, the pain enough to make her vomit, but since she had skipped her night meal all she did was wretch miserably.

Her only thought was to make it to her post before the guards or the prince decided another punishment was in order. Quickly, she got to her feet and staggered on, finding another stairwell and traveling up it until she ran into another person who could point her in the right direction.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually she made it back to her room only to find Tina still hadn't left yet. She glared hatefully at the woman before crumbling to the floor, mainly in relief that she wasn't late.

"I guess you weren't out bathing," Tina said looking her over.

Santana had a list of scathing replies to that comment, but she was far too hurt and too tired to open her mouth and say even one, instead she kept glaring.

Tina seemed not to notice as she grabbed Santana under the arm and lifted her up, "Come on, you need to be clean now."

She didn't remember how she got to the river, how Tina had guided her with a pinching grasp down the winding stairwells, out of the castle and into the woods surrounding the outer court, all Santana recalled of the journey was her fight not to pass out again from the pain. Full cognizance didn't return to her again until she had been undressed and the cool, clear water touched her aching back. A sigh of relief escaped her as she looked around, now aware of her surroundings for the first time.

They were in the river that ran past the castle and into the ocean, it created a small pool where the water collected and continued its journey. The light blue hue of the sky told her it was well before dawn, meaning the water and the air were a pleasant temperature. All around her there were other women in various states of undress washing themselves or their clothes.

Oddly enough they didn't bother her, what did was the way Tina stood over her at the water's edge watching impatiently.

"We will miss our morning meal if you do not hurry," she said tossing a ragged cloth at her.

Santana eyed the stack that was kept nearby and wondered how many people before her had used it, but since that line of thought was completely fruitless, she proceeded to wash herself without another thought.

"You could have waited for me," she said before dunking herself under the water. When Tina had the gall to look confused, she elaborated, "After the princess was sent to her room, you left. I didn't know how to get back, you're supposed to help me."

"I have my own duties to attend to," she spat with such venom Santana was taken aback.

"We were done for the night."

"You were done," she replied, her eyes hard and challenging Santana to continue to make an issue of it.

Luckily, she was too worn out to try, instead she scrubbed herself clean everywhere but her back which she couldn't bear the slightest pressure on. Tina was kind enough to help her out of the water and back into her bandages and chest bindings.

Though it was only gruel, being finally seated in front of another meal made her feel considerably better. It was true that her back had returned to causing relentless pain, but at least now she was clean and fed.

When Puck appeared next to her she wasn't all that surprised, he offered his usual toothy grin as a greeting and soon Michael and Matthew joined them as well. Santana may have hated Tina, but the surly woman kept good company. The light mood of the morning was soured by the time she greeted the princess, since after the stair climb she'd had to endure her legs were in almost as much pain as her back. And from that moment on things only got worse.

Her first duty was to take the princess to the dining hall where Santana had to stand at attention the entire meal until her legs were almost out of strength. Then she escorted the excitable blonde to her favorite location, the gardens, only to find she had left a bracelet at the table.

As she was not allowed to take the direct path back, she left to be lost for a time trying to find her way back to the royal dining hall. When she finally did find it and the bracelet she returned only to discover an angry guard who found it unacceptable that the princess had been left alone so long.

That marked her first trip back to the understeward's care.

Throughout the day, she was tasked with fetching things from all over the castle from places she not only couldn't locate, but didn't know the function of (what the hell was an observatory and what was the princess doing forgetting her hairbrush there?). Her legs screamed with almost as much crippling fever as her abused back as she dashed up and down endless flights of stairs, only to find she was on the wrong path and have to backtrack to meet the same stair punishment awaiting on the correct one. Some of the other servants were nice enough to help her, even though they clearly were busy. Maybe they remembered their first time in this hell, or maybe because she looked so desperate and enraged, it didn't take long for her to be known as Angry Lost Girl.

The worst part of it all was Brittany. Her naiveté meant she would ask about Santana's obvious discomfort and try to comfortingly rub her back when told it was causing pain; the dark skinned woman had to rally every ounce of self control not to smack her. And she was constantly getting just as lost as Santana who had no idea where she was most of the time. Of course her being with the princess meant she was responsible for her safety and apparently taking a wrong turn and leading her to the armory instead of the study amounted to endangerment. She found that Puck worked there and though he tried to talk his overseer out of turning her in she was still taken away and beaten again. After her crippling whipping she was sent back to the blonde who would inquire as to where she had gotten.

It made Santana burn with rage.

The day had been a hard, but well-learned lesson in navigation and she now knew how to get to the servants' quarters from almost any of the connecting hallways. It was her great misfortune that at the end of the night Tina once again made herself scarce and Santana had to try and navigate once more from the ornate hallway of the royals. By the time she found it, she was only afforded an hour of sleep before she had to be up and moving again.

The first week was full of difficult tasks made more so by her worn out legs and almost constantly bleeding wounds. She found she was expected to wash herself and her clothes daily as well as contributing to the slave community by occasionally helping scrub the bed sheets and washrags clean.

Another unexpected twist to her routine was discovering that though the Princess had many attendants, she was the only one who was actually her care giver, everyone else assisted her with a specific task like hair, clothes and bathing. She was expected to handle everything else, occasionally having to do tasks she had never done before on her own, such as assisting the princess onto her horse. Of course, having never ridden one before, she did it completely wrong leading to a small fall that led to an unforgettable lashing. It also lead to her quickly learning the proper way to assist her mistress onto her mount.

A month passed following the same routine with little change, she got lost and got beaten. The main difference was now the combined pain of fresh wounds on tender old ones just plain made her pass out. Even Karofsky didn't have enough water to wake her with and usually quit sooner. In the morning she would wake and run herself ragged tending to the various, random needs of Brittany while grinding her teeth at the woman's persistent, whimsical attitude. The princess smiled at her constantly and it made Santana so very angry, blood trickled down her back onto wobbly legs that were somehow both stiff and melting from all the stairs and this _whore_ was smiling at her.

There were times where she felt it was in fact Brittany she hated the most, but then she would feel the bite of Karofsky's whip and her hatred of him would win out.

And be damned if she still couldn't stop screaming when it happened.

Tina remained unhelpful and Santana quickly learned not to even try to look to her for help, instead relying on the helpful tips and encouraging words from Michael, Matthew and Puck during meals or in the brief moments when they would see each other in passing.

In time, she managed to not only not get lost anymore, but she started discovering shortcuts, allowing her to spend less time with Karofsky and her back to finally feel ever so slightly better, something that shortened her travel times further. However, the beatings hadn't ceased entirely, so as always her body remained a sore, bloody wreck. Meaning Brittany, more than Karofsky, became the bane of her existence. The woman had no boundaries, she would hug Santana in excitement from something stupid like finding a clover or cling to her in fear from a spider. A spider Santana would be expected to dispatch of while not cursing from the pain in her freshly opened wounds caused by the other woman's enthusiasm.

* * *

Aching feet pounded against aging, hard, unforgiving stairs as Santana ran to the kitchens as fast as she could, there was no particular rush, but she had gotten into the habit of going everywhere at top speed and saw no point in slowing down now.

Her back screamed in protest as she hopped the last two steps that took her to the side door of the kitchens. Inside were countless people working feverishly over what seemed like an infinite number of hot stoves. Santana found herself a little confused as to why there was still so much cooking happening as the last meal of the day had already been served.

"Santana?" came a familiar voice from behind her.

She spun around to see Michael smiling down at her, "What are you doing here?" she asked abruptly and then, realizing how rude she sounded, said, "I mean, hello."

He laughed and she found it was an oddly pleasant sound, at that moment she had to wonder again how such a nice man was married to such a sour woman.

"I'm surprised to see so many still working this late," she said turning back to the bustling slaves.

"The kitchens stay open all night. We have to feed all the nobles, royalty and guards so at the end of one meal we have to immediately make preparations for the next, because we feed so many."

She nodded in understanding. "I see, though I thought you said you did work with the carpenters. I wouldn't take you for a chef," she could have sworn that over the past days she had heard him mention carpentry, though admittedly her focus was always on her food.

"I'm not, but I know recipes from my homeland that the king and queen enjoy. I have many duties throughout the castle as I am a man of many talents. So to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked kindly.

"Spoon," she said handing over a silver spoon with a look of irritation, "The princess somehow kept it after her meal."

"Ah." He took the item and set it on a countertop teetering with unwashed dishes, "Good thing you returned it, our overseer counts the valuables daily; I think you just spared everyone a good lashing."

Santana felt her jaw tighten, "That's what I can't stand about that woman," she growled. No matter how much she hated the princess she wouldn't refer to her directly, she took Tina's warning about Archibald to heart and made a point to use caution when speaking ill of Brittany. "She never thinks. She just does silly things that hurt everyone around her, but I guess we don't matter so why should she care."

Michael sighed softly, "She is a very good person Santana, her actions are never meant to harm. If she knew how you felt it would make her cry."

Her eyes widened, "I'm not stupid, I would never tell her, Karofsky would have my skin off before I could finish my sentence."

"No, I mean she wants you to like her and if she knew she was causing you pain it would make her sad. Matthew, Tina and I have always worked to make sure she isn't burdened with the knowledge of what happens to servants that Archibald sends for discipline. She is one of the gentlest souls I have ever met and I know if you took a moment and come to know her like I do, you would agree."

"You- Why! If she knew maybe she wouldn't be so careless."

"I won't tell you to keep it from her if she asked but we feel she has enough to deal with," he smiled again, "Give her a chance."

Santana gave a noncommittal noise and was about to dismiss herself, but stopped, "Michael… why are you married to Tina? I don't want to be rude or pry, but… she's sort of dark and a bit mean…" she said realizing only at the end how horrible that sounded, "Mean to me anyway."

His smile became a sad one and his eyes lost a little of their light, "She isn't mean, though I can understand how it seems that way. Her feelings toward you are misdirected anger, she was the princess' lady in waiting before and after Jean. Your arrival meant she was placed back with Archibald." Santana nodded in understanding, it would upset her a great deal to have to follow the prince around. As angry as Brittany made her she couldn't even fathom how horrible he was during the day.

"Back in our homeland," Michael continued softly, "she was the more light spirited of the two of us, she was _my_ light." Santana remained quiet as she found it would be inappropriate to state how implausible she found that, "Things aren't always as they seem. Not with her, nor with the princess. You should talk to Tina. If you come to know who she really is instead of who she has been forced to become you will know why we are married."

She understood in that moment she had asked him a horribly personal question and he had been nice enough to answer without giving too much away. It made her want to apologize for being so rude, but her attempts at forgiveness were forgotten under the sound of a booming voice.

"You do not belong here. OUT!"

She turned to see the same man that fed her daily meals of, what she later found to be, crow stew. His voice was accented like Michael's, though the dialect was clearly different, and like Michael's accent Santana was not well versed enough to tell where it came from.

"She was returning a spoon, Tanaka-san," Michael said imploringly.

The stocky man looked at the spoon his subordinate was now holding up and looked over to Santana, "You are stealing from my kitchen?!" he roared.

"What?! No, I brought it back!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

He took a quick step forward and cuffed her hard on the head, "No stealing! Out of my kitchen!" he barked and marched off after snatching the spoon from Michael.

Her eyes welled up with tears from the pain, but she didn't let them fall, instead she took deep, steadying breaths, trying not to stumble. The dull, heavy throb in her head just made more waves of hate roll over her.

"I'm sorry," Michael said as he guided her to the door.

"No. It was my fault for thinking there wouldn't be some sort of punishment for that woman's mistake," she said dryly before she took off out the door, down the hall, and into the stairwell that would lead her on an unbelievably long path to the gardens, which was more than double the length of the direct route.

The stairs wound up, down and around taking her past her destination twice before she came to a stairwell that would truly lead her to it. She was almost there when she saw the blonde woman down below from a window she passed. Knowing she was risking a beating for lingering she paused, amazed by the sight below her. She had left the princess in the garden as she found it was the only place one _could_ leave her and expect to find her in the same spot more than a minute later. The soon-to-be queen of the kingdom was in the garden, spinning gracefully in a circle her face turned up to the sky like a child.

Santana felt the familiar feeling of hate rise inside her again, how could she be that way? Her back hurt so bad sometimes it made her heave and occasionally she did lose some of the crow stew that tasted the way cow manure smelled and it angered her, because she had worked so hard for every mouthful. She supposed her hate was half of her issue and, here staring down at the smile that graced the princess' flawless face, she realized the other was jealousy. Santana had to admit she missed the younger her that could have been that free, but that girl had been beaten, raped, cursed and kicked into an early grave and it wasn't fair that she was stuck babysitting a grown woman with the mental stability of an infant, shielding her from the dangers of having to do things for herself.

With a growl she snatched herself off the window before she got even more worked up and made her way down to the happy woman waiting below. Quietly, she approached Brittany who was now sitting in the grass smelling the flowers as though their scent was the grandest thing that had ever happened to her nose.

"M'lady," she said the honorific like a curse, because to her it was.

At the sound Brittany turned and damn it all if she didn't have that smile on her face; Santana had to fight the urge not to just run up and slap it off her.

"Santana!" she squeaked leaping up. "No one was mad about the spoon, right?"

Her head still throbbed where the kitchen's overseer had thwacked her, but she had not been brought here to tell the truth, "No, m'lady," she said stiffly.

The woman's face fell slightly, "Call me Brittany please."

"I don't think that's wise, m'lady," she said repeating the title to make a point.

The princess pouted in a way that would have been cute if Santana didn't hate every part of her so very, very much. "Well, at least smile. Why are you always so unhappy, Santana?"

For a moment the Santana from the early days of the Evans' vineyard _almost_ came back. She _almost_ opened her mouth to tell her all the things that were causing her disquiet, starting with her daily beatings and ending with that stupid smile that was being pointed her way. Luckily, the near emergence of that Santana was circumvented by Sam's voice telling her to hold her tongue in that pleading tone of his and instead of opening her mouth she clenched her jaw tight enough to make the tendons jump.

"I don't know," came out of gritted teeth.

"Smile for me please?" it was a request not a demand.

Santana yanked the corners of her mouth up in what looked closer to an aggressive display of her teeth than a smile, Brittany looked at it and laughed. Santana, knowing how absurd she must look, forgot herself and allowed a real smile to replace the monstrosity on her face.

At the sight of it Brittany's face lit up, "Oh! I knew it! You can smile."

The princess' words wrenched it back off her face and she had to struggle again to keep the scowl at bay, "Yes I can, m'lady," she said in her usual gruff tone.

Anger was swirling again, what right did Brittany have to see her smile? She was the main cause of her many pains, her innocent act came at the price of Santana's suffering.

Brittany sighed heavily, "Alright, I guess one is all I get, huh? Grumpy Santana's back for the rest of the day?"

"I'm sorry this is all the joy I have to give," she said and it was as close to honest as she would ever allow herself to get in front of royalty.

The princess set off back towards the castle almost skipping with each step, "That can't be true, you have to find joy in something," she said wistfully.

Santana could feel her teeth grinding. Find joy in what? The princess monopolized her during the day and at night, when she could have been socializing, she was seeing the castle's healers to keep her back from getting infected since the wounds had yet to totally be left to heal since she had arrived. Not that there was a lot of talking to be done, aside from her meals there was hardly a chance to socialize with anyone except with those that shared a room with her. She certainly didn't want to talk to Tina and after being left alone time and time again to fend for herself she didn't really trust anyone. She sort of trusted Matthew, but he always came in late at night and in the morning was out before anyone else even stirred. She had seen Puck around outside of their brief talks in the dining hall, but she got the feeling that seeking him out would be like begging him to get into her bed and she wasn't all that interested in adding more physical activity to her day and more strain to her raw back. Her earlier conversation with Michael had been one of the most meaningful ones since she arrived and that one had ended in pain that could have been avoided had she not spoken.

"No, m'lady, nothing gives me any particular joy," she said flatly as she followed Brittany back up to the castle.

"I don't believe you. I saw a smile, so all I have to do is figure out what makes you happy."

Santana watched her walk up the stairs and as she thought of grabbing the back of Brittany's overly expensive flowing, green dress and throwing her back to the bottom of the stairs a grin played over her lips. One she wiped away immediately when the blonde turned around to wait for her.

"I hope you find something to do to make me smile," she said maliciously.

Brittany smiled broadly at that, "I do, too!"

From the top of the stairs there were a few steps down the long halls until Brittany's bedroom door and upon successful delivery of her ward to Tina for her bath, Santana would be free to take a small nap to temporarily relieve her now constant body ache.

They were right at her chamber door when Michael approached them; seeing him surprised Santana. When she had last seen him moments ago in the kitchens, he was the same as always, a tall jovial man with comforting eyes to match his smile. The man that approached now looked the same, but entirely different; he seemed tense and shrunken, and there wasn't a shred of warmth in his eyes or a hint of a grin. She had to assume Tanaka had taken the spoon incident out in full on him and she suddenly regretted not pushing her ward down the stairs.

"My lady, I was told to inform you that Tina is indisposed at the moment. The prince requests that you remain in Santana's care for the remainder of the day," he said bowing stiffly.

Santana highly doubted that the prince had actually remembered her name, it was probably a message passed on by Matthew. That aside, it was either his accent or the fact that his head was still bowed that made him sound like he was barely containing the kind of rage Santana thought only she had to hold back. The type of anger that, if their masters knew of its intensity, would cause them to never trust her with their food or any sharp objects.

"Umm, I don't think that's a good idea," Brittany said, her joy from earlier completely gone.

Michael chanced a brief glance at her, "My lady, it is a command that you be assisted when bathing."

"I… I understand," clearly she wanted to continue to argue the point, but didn't.

Santana smirked at seeing the princess not get her way for once, but she couldn't help but feel a little curious as to why all of a sudden she was shy. Both her smugness and curiosity were extinguished with the knowledge that this meant she had no time to rest.

A scowl firmly in place, she guided the princess to the royal bathing room which, as opposed to an outdoor pond, was large and lavish. The tub was already filled with hot water and there was a towel and a sponge waiting on a stool.

Brittany stepped closer slowly, suddenly looking very unsure. Santana followed, feeling very irritated that she wasn't already in the water so she could scrub off the thin film of sweat formed over her body from a rigorous day of doing nothing.

"I almost drowned on my own once when I was ten," she said quietly.

Santana was torn between rage at this clearly irrelevant statement, confusion at how a girl of ten almost drowns in a tub and amusement at the thought of the silly girl nearly losing her pointless life to stupidity.

"Alright," she said with a straight face.

"Ever since then Artie won't let me bathe alone, he thinks I'll drown," she continued sadly.

It took her a moment to realize that Artie was Archibald. "Right, well, let's begin."

Brittany stepped to the tub and looked over her shoulder at Santana, "I need help getting out of this."

If it had been her right to sigh dramatically and curse at Brittany's helplessness she would have, instead she stepped up behind the other woman and untied the fastenings that held the dress closed at the back without a word. It took her a moment to help her get her arms out of the narrow sleeves and eventually she had Brittany down to her small clothes. It was then that, despite the venomous hatred that heated her stomach like lava, Santana had to admit to herself that the princess had quite the figure. However, that errant thought was shoved away quickly as Brittany shrugged off the remaining pieces of clothing and climbed swiftly into the hot water.

Santana suddenly understood her reluctance to have a different person bathe her, because if someone else bathed her, someone else would see the bruises that covered almost every inch of her, save for her face and lower arms and legs, in a variety of shapes and sizes. The worst of it seemed to be on her stomach, but most of that was covered by Brittany as she hugged her knees tightly.

There were only two people who had the authority to touch her this way: one was the king. He was stern and a tad uncaring at times, but that seemed to be all and he had never given a sparing glance to anyone but his wife. Then there was Archibald, the cruel, spiteful man that shared Brittany's bed and apparently beat her silly in it. The bruises varied in age, some were faint and almost healed and some were so fresh they hadn't settled enough to be only one color. The princess of the great Abrams Kingdom looked like she was beaten, badly, at least twice a week.

"Please don't stare," Brittany said in a small voice, her back still to Santana as she hugged her legs tighter to her chest.

Santana closed her mouth, only just then realizing it had been hanging open and cleared her throat, "Sorry, thought I saw something in the corner, it was nothing," she said fumbling to pick up the sponge.

She could hear Brittany chuckle quietly, "It's nice of you to lie, but I know how I look."

There was a splash as Santana dipped the sponge in the water and began to gently rub her back, "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It's not as bad as it looks, it only hurts at first… and when I have to put on tight dresses… or take a deep breath."

Santana couldn't suppress a small, sad smile as she realized Brittany was honestly trying to make her feel better about her misery. "Ah," she said, trying to sound as if she were truly convinced

"Everyone knows about it I guess, it's best you know, too," Brittany seemed to be talking to herself more than Santana.

There were bathing salts on the floor and Santana handed her the bottle to apply what she wanted, the blonde looked up at her like an excited child, "You'll let me pour them?"

Again, Santana accidentally let a genuine smile slip at her enthusiasm, but reigned it in before Brittany looked back up from the bottle, "Go ahead, you know how much you need more than I do."

That same small smile slipped back on Santana's face as she watched the other woman focus on pouring the white crystals into the water and swirl them around. Brittany became her usual self and talked about all kinds of things as Santana continued to wash her back. The princess chattered on as she took over to wash her more intimate places, a portion of the bath that Santana turned her back on, because no matter how little she liked the woman it was something she didn't feel comfortable watching. Brittany even elicited a laugh from her while Santana washed her hair. It was short, quiet and over some random silliness that was commonplace with Brittany, but it was there nonetheless.

On her way back to her quarters later that night, Santana thought back on what she had seen; she didn't harbor any particular love for the blonde, but the hatred was definitely doused to a feeling somewhere in between mild irritation and total disinterest. The woman had it just as bad as everyone else and in some cases worse. The information didn't make Santana like her more when Brittany had insisted upon getting her in constant trouble doing one thing or another and would inevitably continue to do so. With her back flayed to the point where she forgot what it was like to be able to lean against anything, the best form of sympathy she could offer was to not fantasize about killing her.

However, the revelation about the prince did make Santana wonder now how she could be as happy as she was every day, so happy Santana had been fooled into thinking Brittany had not a care in the world. Thinking back, she could recall many times she was sure she was seeing Brittany fresh off a beating in the way she held herself or favored one side or the other. It could have been false bravado, but who had enough to keep that up all the time?

As she walked in the shabby door that led to her shared room she was surprised to see Tina sitting at the drawing table. For a moment Santana considered just going to bed without saying a word to her, but she still regretted getting Michael in trouble over the spoon. He had been so nice to her and if all he wanted in return was for her to talk to his stony wife then so be it.

Slowly, she approached and cleared her throat, realizing as the woman turned that she had prepared nothing to say, "Um… hello…"

Tina gave her an odd look through sad, tired eyes, "Hello."

Awkwardly, Santana sat at the table next to her trying to think of something more intelligent to say, "You weren't able to wash Brittany today, did something happen?" she asked.

It had been a stupid question, obviously something had happened and, like her question before to Michael, it was none of her concern. However, it was meant to be a conversation starter which would either end in Tina telling her as much or explaining where she had been. Instead the woman heaved a shuddering sob and began to cry.

Panicked Santana looked around hoping there was someone else nearby who knew her well enough to comfort her. There were only three others in the room and they were either deep asleep or pretending to be.

"Sorry?" she tried unable to comprehend what had even caused the breakdown.

"I was a scholar," she sobbed and Santana wondered if maybe Tina had a touch of madness from some fever, "I was a scholar and so was Zheng, we came to this land to advance our studies and ended up here. Trapped in a stone box with monsters."

Santana supposed she understood, she had once been free too, but it had been so long ago the sting of it was mostly gone. To have grown up free only to be enslaved when on a quest for knowledge had to be maddening, "Well, I don't know about Seng," her mouth tripped over the unusual name, "But you still have Michael."

She gave a bitter, tear-filled laugh, "Michael is Zheng. He was given that name by the men who enslaved us, it was simpler for them to say."

"Oh, well you have him here with you so that should make it a little better," she tried.

Tina's tears just got worse, silent, violent sobs wracked her body and she seemed to shrink into her seat. Santana felt infinitely uncomfortable since she had no idea what had started it or why it seemed every word she said made things worse. Instead of trying to work it out she leaned over and gave her a discomfited but heartfelt hug, one that the other woman accepted as she cried out her sorrows onto Santana's shoulder.

Sitting there in the dark, hugging a woman who, up until mere moments before, she harbored nothing but distaste for she couldn't help but feel weary. It was much easier to hate everyone, to see them as selfish and insufferable so ignoring their pain would be easy, because frankly she had enough to deal with. Maybe she could continue feeling indifference to Brittany, but Tina held sorrow that Santana could understand and she felt herself softening to the other woman even though she didn't want to. She knew from experience that she wasn't being told the heart of the matter and she was grateful, because she was sure, just like her innermost memories, the story behind the pain would be horrifying.

When she finally calmed, Santana leaned back and smiled weakly, "What is your name?" she asked.

Understanding, Tina said, "Lihua."

Santana nodded and repeated it back the best she could hoping not to butcher it, her attempts making Tina look slightly less miserable.

Wiping her face of evidence of tears, Tina looked down at her lap, "I'm sorry about my behavior. I know what it is like to be new here and I left you to fend for yourself. Lately I've been wrapped up in my own sorrows and forget how to be kind. This place does that to people, it makes them forget to be human."

Santana shook her head, "If it had been the other way around I think might have done the same if your arrival meant being stuck with _him._" she said, avoiding using the prince's name directly.

"Can you forgive me?" she asked surprising Santana with her sincerity.

"I forgive you."

It was then that Tina's face brightened, and just as Michael had said, she could see the person who could capture such a kind man's heart.

* * *

A/N: A little more revealed about Tina and Brittany, but the story is still unfolding.

Reviews are welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

The night spent in Tina's company had earned her a friend who worked nearby and as such gave her invaluable information on how to perform her daily tasks. In a few days she had learned how to do almost everything more efficiently, from washing her clothes at the river to knowing the various well-hidden spots Brittany would leave her belongings. The woman had a trick for everything and Santana was incredibly grateful for the help, because it meant that as the season changed from the scorching heat of summer to the orange-hued days that signaled the start of the harvest season, she went longer and longer without a beating. Until eventually she was able to mark four whole days without seeing Karofsky, though she did glimpse him in the mornings and slinking through the castle from time to time.

One of those times was while waiting patiently for Brittany to finish her morning meal; she stood at the back by the wall across from Tina, Matthew and three others who she wasn't familiar with. She only knew that two of them served the king and queen and the third was the king's personal guard. He was another tree of a man that Santana only knew as Azimio, he carried a bastard sword and looked like he had a foul temper. She didn't know a thing about him other than his looks and since he seemed like he might be even more dangerous than Karofsky, she went out of her way to keep it like that.

The royal family ate in relative silence, the king and queen seated side by side at the head of the table speaking quietly to each other. Archibald sat along the side next to his father across from Brittany who was next to the queen. The prince looked sulky and his grey blue stare flicked maliciously to Brittany every few moments as if she were gesturing rudely at him. In truth the princess was playing with her porridge and bread, tearing off pieces of the browned loaf and placing it in her bowl like little boats, smiling happily as she scooped it and the porridge up with her spoon to eat.

Santana found the royal's meal time was always the most uneventful part of the day, and it would be perfect if they were actually allowed to sit down and rest instead of standing at attention in case they were needed to assist in some way. Regardless, the quiet clanking of silverware on plates was almost soothing as she stood waiting for them to be finished, it was a peace that was broken by the doors at the end of the hall bursting open.

A man wearing the red and white of the king's advisors came marching in, he may have even pulled off an air of significance if his hair hadn't been so distractingly ridiculous. The giant, fluffy cloud of hair combined with his less than attractive facial features made him look more like a jester.

He was, however, a highborn lord and a royal advisor, so his noisy intrusion and questionable fashion went unremarked upon.

The king looked up from his meal, clearly perturbed yet still polite, "Lord Jacob, I must assume you have something urgent to tell me if you are interrupting my meal," he said in his stern, unyielding voice.

Jacob looked around nervously as if silently asking someone else to relay the news, "Sire, our occupation of some of the Southern territories isn't going as planned," he said quietly.

A rumbling sigh escaped his lips, "Is this something that can wait until I have finished eating and come to court?"

"No, sire," he said swiftly, "We sent more than half of our garrison to obtain those lands and… they are all dead."

The hall went totally silent, even Brittany stopped playing with her porridge at the news. Archibald looked pale, but it was nothing compared to his father.

"What happened?" his voice was the low, rolling thunder before a storm.

"The farmers and merchants convinced the civilians to rebel against your ordinance to relocate them in favor of making their homes strongholds."

"I am not asking why they rebelled! I want to know how four thousand well-trained and battle-seasoned soldiers were wiped out by commoners!" His voice shook the walls and caused everyone to shrink back.

Jacob, for all his finery, mousy attitude and weak stature didn't back away, "They didn't fight. They invited the soldiers into their homes and brothels, sold them meat and mead, even threw honorary feasts for their arrival. The ones that weren't poisoned from the food were killed in their sleep. There were maybe seven who escaped the massacre, one soldier took the time to send a message by pigeon, but the letter suggested their group was under duress at the time, meaning they could all be dead by now."

"Damn those peasants if they think they can get away with this!" he roared getting to his feet.

"Sire," Jacob piped up looking desperate to be heard over his king's rage, "I think it may be prudent to call off the overseas campaign, we are only allied with a few port colonies and the fighting will be long and difficult, especially since we don't know what we will find deeper inland. I say we settle matters here first."

"No," he said, and his tone told everyone that was final. There was no argument even though it was clear Jacob did not agree, "Archibald, this will be your task to deal with, once I am gone you must make the decisions. Handling this rebellion will be your first duty. Lord Jacob, you are tasked with rebuilding our lost force, I want us at double our previous numbers just to prove to those dirt-shoveling commoners that we are not to be trifled with. Send out a decree to all the territories to send their able-bodied men and boys to my service; to disobey is treason."

Matthew cleared his throat before speaking carefully, "Majesty, is that wise? To rile the Northern and Western colonies in the hopes of quelling the South?"

"Hold your tongue, boy! I have a council of elders to confer with, not you!" he snapped and shoved his chair aside, "There are arrangements to be made, Lord Jacob, come with me."

The flighty man did as he was told, leaving the hall swiftly behind the king and his guard, Santana might have been impressed if she weren't still gawking at the lord's hair. The queen continued to eat as if nothing had happened, after she took a final bite of bread she daintily wiped her mouth and rose to leave, her servant following her dutifully.

Archibald watched them go and once they had vanished turned to Matthew, "What was that about?"

For a brief moment the other man seemed quite exasperated, but that look quickly faded, "The new border territories of your kingdom are under attack by your own subjects. Your father wants you to quell the issue."

"And you feel this is unwise?" he asked and Santana was surprised for a second time to find that the prince seemed to genuinely be asking advice from someone she knew he thought inferior.

"It is not the wisest course of action, he definitely needs to regain lost forces as soon as possible, especially in the face of this upcoming campaign, but, as Lord Jacob said, not by decree to the only lands that are still your allies. It would be like having three children and when one misbehaves you punish the other two instead of the one that caused the trouble. It's unfair and it will more likely than not cause the other territories to join their rebellious brother. If they are to be punished, why not be punished in the pursuit of freedom rather than because a neighboring territory rebelled?"

The smaller man thought about this for a moment and nodded, "I see your point. But our forces are cut and we must rebuild them if we are to defend ourselves, so what do we do?"

"Offer a reward for joining the service, an obvious choice would be land in the new territory the king conquers, that way not only do they come willingly, but it is an easy way to occupy the new land with loyal subjects."

Archibald smiled and seeing it Santana decided she liked it better when he scowled, "Excellent." He stood with a flourish that paled in comparison to his father's and began to walk out of the hall followed by Tina and Matthew.

He said a brief, 'My lady.' as he passed Brittany, she nodded acknowledgement, though she seemed almost afraid to respond.

Now alone, Brittany finished her meal as well and stood to leave. Santana moved to her side quickly, marveling as the kitchen staff came out from various doors moving quickly to clear and clean the places of those who had departed. Michael was amongst them giving out orders while helping and then, like magic, they were all gone.

Brittany looked as fascinated by it as Santana felt, "They are really good at that," she said smiling before stepping out into the hall.

"Are you going to join the prince?" she asked, knowing that after morning meals she would usually join her husband for some activity or another.

Brittany shook her head, "No, he's going to go to the council meeting with his father so he can tell them Matthew's idea."

It was the third serious surprise of the morning, "He would defend a servant's idea to the council?" she asked forgetting herself.

Normally, she wouldn't have inquired about anything to do with the kingdom or what the people in it did, but it seemed almost unbelievably uncharacteristic for a prince like Archibald to be so selfless and honest.

Brittany frowned slightly, "No, he'll just say it was his idea and take all the praise for thinking it up. Matthew always has smart ideas and Artie knows that, so he just uses them."

That seemed far more in line with what she thought of the prince, he would take the ideas from the only man who seemed qualified to have any and make them his own. Inwardly she scoffed at the whole situation and wondered why someone as smart as Matthew would give the brat prince any ideas at all. Why not just let the royals all fail and crumble under the weight of their own stupidity? It made no sense and she quickly gave up trying to figure it out.

* * *

It was clear in the time that followed that Matthew's idea had been a success as there were new soldiers pouring in almost daily. The castle now had four times as many soldiers as it did before, and soon they had to start turning men away. The roaring success of the draft had the king singing Archibald's praises constantly while Matthew stood by dutifully, listening to how well thought out the prince's plan was and it made Santana ill. And all the while, with the homage and adoration that was being showered on him by his parents and the king's court alike, Brittany would still meet her some mornings walking like she had been kicked by a mule. Though Santana had to suspect that the beatings weren't something his parents knew about, as he never left marks somewhere that couldn't be covered with clothing. Or maybe they knew and just demanded he keep the evidence out of the public eye. Regardless of the answer, Santana had enough problems without trying to shoulder Brittany's, and it wasn't as if there was anything she could do about it anyway. At the very least, Brittany was a princess and allowed the best healers gold could buy, as opposed to a peasant's wife who was beaten daily then forced to clean the house and raise children with nothing but a cold rag for aide. Brittany's healer came in the guise of a large, bullish woman named Beiste who arrived regularly under the pretense of checking the princess' daily health, even though Santana knew she was repairing the damage her husband had done. The difference was hardly a blessing, but better than nothing.

The days were growing shorter and the air cooler, making it fairly pleasant to stand outside and muse as she was, occupying herself with various thoughts standing in the gardens waiting for Tina to bring Brittany. Her thoughts then drifted to the fact that it had been quite some time since she had been beaten for anything. There was a moment where she reflected on how sad it was that not being whipped was the highlight of the season, but she ignored that and sat by the small pond with a grin.

Alone in the noonday sun, Santana felt content for the first time since arriving; she felt like with enough time things could be bearable, that maybe living wouldn't always be a chore. This elated feeling let her mind wander where it willed and out of the depths floated something old and long forgotten: it was a song. When she concentrated she could recall it was something her mother had sung to her when she was very small, but it had been in the language of her ancestors and to her sorrow she could barely recall any of those words or their meanings. She had locked away a lot the night her parents died and that language had been amongst the things lost, sadly it wasn't something she could store and take out later. The words that she used to be able to speak clearly to her family were now missing or muddled.

It dampened her mood a little to realize that, she had never tried to speak it until now and even as she opened her mouth and sang what little she did remember of the song she found she was saying words she didn't recall the meaning of. She knew a couple, for the most part it was truly foreign to her, but she sang on anyway. It was like looking through the ashes of her past and finding something salvageable, leaving her to regret that she hadn't found it earlier, hadn't attempted to retain some part of her old self. But she couldn't blame the little girl from all those years ago, she threw everything away because it all hurt so very much, every memory was a knife in her heart and there were already so many new pains being beaten into her she'd had to just bury the old ones to survive.

The more she sang, the more of the song she could recall and the more her throat seemed able to recite the correct notes. The meanings weren't becoming any clearer, but her tongue was remembering how to wrap around the words. Even though it was a far reach from what she used to be able to do, it made her feel a little better.

Her tranquility was broken by a loud snap that sounded behind her, panicked she stood to face whoever it was that had snuck up so quietly. Never one to imagine a good outcome, she pictured Archibald or Karofsky to be there, but instead she saw Brittany standing stock still, her foot still on the twig she had stepped on, her face contorted into a wince.

"Sorry," she said softly, "Please don't stop, that was really wonderful."

Santana cleared her throat and kept her voice calm, "How long were you standing there?"

"Not long."

"I see, my apologies for not being ready to receive you," she said and moved away with the intent of giving the princess the run of the garden.

Instead of turning to admire the flowers and trees like she had never seen them before as was her ritual, she just looked imploringly at Santana, "Please sing for me? Just a little bit more?"

Santana knew that, as always, it was a request and not a command which was why she ignored it and stared off into the distance. Understanding, Brittany sighed and walked over to the pond towards the shaded seat that was prepared for her. It was then Santana noticed the heavy limp in her stride and the grimace of pain that flashed over her face as she sat down. The blue eyes that were always so happy didn't have the usual amount of shine to them and her smile was so stiff it could have been drawn on.

It was quiet in the garden, they were cut off from the noises of the castle and the city beyond, all that was audible was the wind, birds and bugs. This was the time that Brittany enjoyed most, she loved to come out and smell the roses, run through the grass and attempt to climb the large tree until Santana forced her to stay down.

This time she just sat in her chair and looked at the pond longingly, like a fish in a bowl staring at the deep blue sea. Santana realized that this was the first time she'd ever even sat in that chair; it had always been there for her, but Brittany had always taken to the grass as her only seat. A fact that had gotten Santana into trouble on more than one occasion since it was unseemly for the princess to show up to a meal in a grass stained dress. The thought brought her old resentments dangerously close to the surface, but then she allowed herself to remember that Brittany's only real pleasure had been taken from her by what could only have been a very severe beating.

Her heart went out to the woman, but she was reluctant to say anything. Tina and Michael were one thing, but getting even slightly involved with her captors was a disaster waiting to happen. It wasn't her place to ask what had happened and honestly she didn't want to know, but looking at her sitting in the shade staring at her reflection with that pathetic attempt at a smile crammed on her face, Santana decided that if she wasn't going to pry she could at least help.

Grudgingly, she moved to sit at the water's edge and took a calming breath, this time the song came out naturally and she didn't need to get used to it like she did before. A few more of the words came to her as she sang and she simply allowed herself to get lost in the melody, the parts she couldn't remember she hummed and with every passing note she felt a part of herself heal just a little bit. Like she was uncovering something her soul needed to survive.

A couple of verses in she was tugged from her introspection by the feeling of Brittany sitting gingerly next to her. Then her right side went warm as she lay her head on Santana's shoulder, never saying a word. Santana kept singing diligently until she got to the last note she knew, and only then did she let her voice fade into the air.

They sat in silence watching the wind ripple the pond's calm surface and for a moment Santana thought Brittany might have fallen asleep until she heard her speak.

"You must be part bird, because your voice is too nice for a human."

Santana suppressed a laugh, "My talent for singing is hardly mentionable."

"No, really," she said seriously. It was quiet for a while longer before she added, "Thank you… for singing that. I know you don't really like me and I can tell that was something private, so it was very nice of you."

It was all true, she didn't really like Brittany and the song had been incredibly private, but for some reason she felt the need to placate her, "I like you," she lied.

Brittany sat up and looked at her quizzically, "Really?"

"Yes."

A disbelieving look crossed her face, "Then smile. A real one."

"I sang you a whole song, wasn't that enough?" Santana bristled.

She sighed, "It's kind of you to try and spare my feelings, but you don't have to. I know I am annoying, Artie tells me that all the time and all the servants that ever try to escape the castle are almost always mine. Jean was the only one who liked spending time with me."

Why did she have to be so damn pathetic about it?

"Brittany, I like you," she said, forcing herself to use her given name and even managed a small smile to top it all off.

The princess lit up like a flame blessed with fresh kindling, "You do?"

"I'm not the only one, Michael, Matthew and Puck all have nice things to say about you."

Her exuberance dimmed, "Because they don't have to take care of me."

"Tina has and she likes you too, it isn't that bad."

"It is and you know it. You run around all the time getting things I've left behind and I've heard the servants' passages are quite difficult to navigate."

"Okay, it is, but you aren't bad to be around," and Santana had to admit the truth of that to herself. Despite all the trouble, Brittany did regularly go out of her way to make others comfortable around her even though her doing so made her husband furious and it was clear how dangerous that was.

Brittany smiled wider and put her head back on Santana's shoulder, "Thank you," she said again. "I don't like being treated like a princess, I just want to be normal Brittany. You're the first person to call me by my name that wasn't a noble or royalty."

"Don't get accustomed to it, my back is just starting to heal," she grumbled.

"What happened to your back?" she asked, and Santana had to take a deep breath before she decided to tell her what the others had gone out of their way to hide.

"I get lashes from the understeward for failing to watch you properly, or not respecting you enough… or for anything really."

She sat up abruptly, "What do you mean?"

Santana narrowed her eyes slightly, "How are you not aware that anytime anything befalls you I get in trouble. When we got lost together the first few days I was here you saw me get escorted away every time the prince, Karofsky or the guards caught us."

Her face was a mask of shocked horror, "But… I… you didn't…"

"It doesn't matter now," she said quietly.

The bewildered look on her face didn't cease and Santana felt uncomfortable under her gaze until she felt even more surprised when Brittany pulled up the back of her blouse.

She had never bothered to investigate the damage to her back in a mirror, so she wasn't sure exactly what it looked like, but it had to be bad since the princess looked almost green at the sight. She immediately dropped the blouse and stared pleadingly at Santana.

"I did that? They did that to you because of me?" she looked like she was on the verge of tears and Santana just could not handle tears from her.

"Don't worry, my back was plenty scarred before this," she said dismissively and she didn't know why. It had been her dream to shove the reality of the pain Brittany's actions brought in her face since she had arrived, but now that the moment had come she couldn't bring herself to be that mean.

"I had no idea. Why wouldn't anyone tell me? Matthew and Tina usually always let me know when I'm doing something wrong."

"They didn't want to trouble you, anyway there were many times where I was going to be beaten no matter what happened."

"I won't do it again, whatever it is that causes that I wont do it anymore," she said determined, "It was because I left things where they didn't belong right?"

"And because I left you to find them, and grass stains upset the prince as well..." Brittany looked stricken at her position in the grass and tried to get up but Santana stopped her. "Your dress today is too dark to see stains, just remember for later."

The princess nodded, "I won't stain my dress again and no more forgetting things."

Santana smiled slightly as she sighed, "Prince Archibald doesn't like me since I am supposed to care for a child you don't have, I would like you to be more careful but he may have me beaten out of spite. Until he has an heir it will be something I can't avoid I think."

"Then it's no wonder everyone hates me," she said and she sounded so distraught it actually made Santana's heart hurt.

Determined, Santana placed a hand on Brittany's and held her startled gaze when those bright blue eyes darted up to find hers, "I don't hate you."

She said it with enough sincerity to make the princess smile like she hadn't yet that day, a dazzling show of happiness that, without Santana's hardened cloak of hate and anger, she had to admit was pretty stunning.

* * *

Puck had many types of smiles: a roguish one when he was trying to be charming, a fake, toothy one when he was trying to be polite to someone he disliked, a playful one that made him look like a boy of ten and many more that ranged in between. The one he was giving Santana now was his troublemaker smile, and she hated it.

In all the time she had spent at the castle she had been around Puck the least, but seemed to know the most about him. Whenever he could he would pop up in random locations to tell her a bit of gossip, usually involving two people she had never met, or to petition her for sex, an offer she always turned down. Like most conversations with her other acquaintances at the castle she always had her longest and most meaningful ones with him at the washing river which was how she knew the smile he was giving her had a tale behind it. One she was sure she wouldn't like.

She had ignored his presence since he had arrived, opting to focus on cleaning stains off her shirt instead, but he had been giving her that ridiculous smile for quite some time. "What, Puck?" she sighed finally.

"So I didn't know you sing," he said slyly.

She froze before snapping her head towards him, "Excuse me?"

"I heard you could teach a songbird its trade. Why didn't you tell me you were so good?" he asked feigning hurt.

"Who told you that?" She hadn't sung a note since the pond several days before, so it had to be then, but who could have heard?

"Our lovely Princess Brittany. She's been gushing 'bout you to any open ear."

Santana felt the heat rise in her cheeks and any feelings of friendship she had been harboring for her mistress flew away. Why would she do that? Why would that idiot think it was alright to tell anyone about that? On the other hand she never asked her not to tell, so Santana supposed she had no one but herself to blame. It didn't stop her from feeling anger towards the other woman.

"I don't sing. Not anymore," she grumbled.

"What? Ya have to! I gotta hear this voice of yours…"

"I don't, Puck! Let it go!" she snapped.

He raised his hands defensively, "Okay, alright, sorry. Didn't mean to make you mad, I just thought if you like singin' and music you might want to join our midnight riff."

"What?"

Puck seemed to have been waiting for her to ask that, because his eyes twinkled and he leaned conspiratorially close, "King Abrams'll be gone soon and there's gonna be this huge celebration, and I mean huge. There'll be performers from all four corners of the land comin' to see the king off, even some of his castellans. The celebration is for everyone, guards and peasants alike, even our ever loved understeward."

"But not for servants," she interrupted.

"'Course not, but that's the best part. Afterwards everyone'll be so drunk off their asses we'll have a night free to do as we want. I already spoke to a few of th' musicians that got here from the North and they agreed to join, Michael c'n get us some meat, bread, mead and wine. I'm gettin' everyone together for one big servant's celebration for after the free folk get their fill and I bet ours'll be better."

She thought on this a moment, she hadn't been to anything like that since she was a child and though reliving the past in any way didn't thrill her she did remember how much fun it had been, "Where will you have it?"

He pointed across the river to the tight forest of trees just beyond, "'Cross the river by the cliff face next to th' sea, it'll be perfect. It's far enough away that our gatherin' won't reach any unwanted ears, won't matter tho cause they'll all be dead asleep."

"And you want me to come and sing?"

He waved a dismissive hand, "Singin' ain't for you, then don't sing. Just come 'n enjoy yourself. When was th' last time any of us got to?"

He had a point, however, the last thing she had done for fun had been with Sam and that had ended poorly. She internally decided she would go but prayed it wouldn't end the same way.

* * *

The morning was bright and beautiful and Santana found herself ahead of schedule getting to the stables to retrieve Brittany's mount. It was time for the royal hunt which was noble talk for a regular hunting excursion performed with all the frills the rich tended to have. To Santana it was just a pissing contest between father and son in front of their respective wives, which was foolish for a lot of reasons. The first being that seeing dead animals always made Brittany terribly sad, Archibald refused to use hounds, making the hunt incredibly long and boring, the queen never cared for hunting and moreover never cared who was the victor, because, and this was the most important point, the king always won.

However, being a servant in the king's service and not being named Matthew meant that her opinion neither mattered nor was it asked for, so she made her way down to the stables and turned the corner to the stall that contained Brittany's horse; only to suddenly scramble back out of sight.

Even as she did it she had no real idea why she was other than her instincts telling her something was wrong. A tentative peak around the corner revealed the green and silver riding tunic that belonged to Archibald and the basic black and white of one of the royal servants. Whoever it was the prince was momentarily blocking their face from view, but she could see the hem of a dress and there was only one servant in the whole castle who wore dresses: Tina. It didn't take long for her to figure out what sort of meeting this was and more importantly that it was totally unwanted by the woman currently pinned to the wall by the prince's body as he pounded into her.

There was a sickening moment where Archibald lifted her higher and Santana's eyes met Tina's; it was for the smallest time, but it felt like eternity and Santana could see all of her hurt and suffering in that moment. It was horrifying, because she knew that look, knew that feeling from her days being passed from person to person like a dog no one wanted, she knew the helplessness and desperation of being hurt badly enough to want to die clashing with the instinct to survive.

Santana turned away and rushed quietly out of the stables feeling ill, she was partially enraged at Archibald for being the worst sort of man imaginable, but mostly at herself for doing nothing. But what could she do? Even if she had stopped him then he would have her one way or the other and Santana would have been rewarded for her heroics with lashes or possibly death. She knew that to be fact, but it still made her stomach churn to think of what Tina was going through; and then there was Michael. The torment that overcame her at letting the prince have his way with the other woman must have been nothing in comparison to what he felt. Suddenly she understood both of them a little better.

Santana waited out of sight until she saw the prince come out of the stables, straightening his hair back into its severe style. When he was gone she slipped in to find Tina brushing his horse and straightening its saddle. The stable boys brushed and saddled the horses perfectly, well in advance of any outing, so she knew these actions to be those of one trying to stay busy. She deliberately cleared her throat to announce her presence making the other woman jump slightly. Tina saw her and smiled the fake smile that was to be found on most residents of the Abrams castle and continued to brush the horse's shining mane. Taking her cues from Tina, Santana smiled back and led Brittany's horse out of the stables, if Tina didn't want to talk about it she hardly saw how it was her right to make her.

* * *

Prince Archibald looked regal, even handsome on his horse in his hunting gear. The green offset his eyes nicely and his slicked back hair gleamed in the sunlight, his straight backed stance matched the noble way he held his bow and arrow to his side ready to strike unsuspecting prey. Next to him looking equally splendid was Brittany, riding side saddle in a matching green dress that made her lithe frame look demure, a look only complemented by her hair falling down her shoulders in golden curls. It would have been picturesque if Santana didn't know the truth behind them or wasn't actively hating them both for making her walk behind their little hunting party, especially when Matthew was there ridding his own horse alongside his prince.

Usually when the royals were out riding Tina would be there to walk next to her, but during a hunting event Archibald was only allowed one attendant to accompany him. Of course he chose Matthew, preferring to have Tina come and deliver his steed to his hands and wait patiently at the stables for his return. Santana grumbled darkly as she dodged another branch that swung past her face after being pushed aside by the princess' horse.

"My lord, this situation can only get worse," she heard Matthew to Archibald up ahead, "Your father's castellan in the South has taken up arms with the farmers and peasants in the border lands and I can assure you he is not a man to be trifled with."

"The Southern castellan? Isn't that William?" he asked sounding almost bored with their conversation as his blue grey eyes scanned the terrain before them.

"Yes," Matthew seemed almost surprised the prince had known that, "Lord William Schuester. He is of a proud line of warriors and not a man to be taken lightly."

"Really? I heard he was a coward and a pushover," another disinterested response.

"It is often that warriors mistake kindness for weakness, but that is not always so. He is indeed fair and just in his actions, but he is stern when it is needed and ruthless if pushed. Those exceptionally balanced traits means he is a natural leader and can easily rally men to his cause. Him being involved means that it is very likely other castellans will join him."

This caused the prince to halt, meaning the princess stopped, meaning Santana almost ran into the backside of a horse before stumbling back.

"That can't happen, what should I do about that?"

Matthew sighed heavily, "Honestly, there is nothing you can do that won't make matters worse. The key here is to prove you can be every bit as kind and benevolent as Lord Schuester. He is known and renowned for his leadership and skills in battle, if you prove to be less forgiving or less skilled then the people will be inclined to join his cause and if they clamor for it their leaders will give them what they want regardless of their allegiance."

Archibald finally looked towards his servant, "I am most certainly more skilled than he is in combat! I will prove it to any man who dares deny it! Why should I bother with benevolence when clearly these nay sayers need a lesson in my battle skills."

Matthew gave a long-suffering sigh, "Sire, please understand what you are saying. If you prove your exceptional skill with a blade on the very people you are trying to prove your benevolence to you will only prove Lord Schuester the better leader. If you kill any who opposed you they will fear you, and though fear is a powerful motivator, it will definitely work against you in this case."

The prince paused thinking hard, "So the only way to prove I'm better than him is to not kill him for saying I'm not."

"I'm confused," Brittany said squinting against the sunlight.

"That's why no one was talking to you!" he snapped at her.

"That is correct," Matthew interrupted before things could escalate, "I think you should meet with an envoy and discuss what could be done to make the situation resolve itself. We need the borders secure as a precaution, but if we have to fight with our only allies to get them it is rather pointless. To the Far West there are many rulers who would love to see this land in discord so they could come in and wipe us out. The Abrams Kingdom is the single largest in the land, but our enemies combined have much more land and power, we need your territories to be united."

"Negotiations," the word left Archibald's mouth like it was sour milk, "I don't like the idea of compromising with those of a lower station."

"I understand that, but I assure you it is necessary and I suggest you not only do it but do it soon. Lord Schuester has already begun to rally those we have already tried to displace to arms, so we are cut off from the farms and vineyards closest to us meaning our supplies take twice as long to get here from the West and that is compounded by the fact that we have so many new troops."

At the sound of the word vineyard Santana felt her heart jump. Was Sam involved in all this? She hoped so, the idea of him riding in and killing Archibald and Karofsky was intensely satisfying.

"Fine, send a pigeon to Schuester and tell him I am open to discussion," he said grudgingly before suddenly lifting his bow and letting an arrow fly.

There was a loud yelp from the bushes a ways ahead of them, and Santana had to run full tilt to catch up as the horses all sped off to it. Luckily the distance was short and when she arrived she saw Archibald laughing wryly.

"Look at the stupid beast! Thought you could escape me, did you!" he taunted.

She followed his line of sight to see a large fox splayed on the ground, an arrow sticking out of its side. The way the stick wobbled was the first indication Santana had that the creature was still alive, panting desperately for air in pain and panic.

Without warning Brittany jumped off her horse and ran to the animal's side, looking distraught, "Artie, you shot a fox."

"Yes, I know, that is the point of hunting silly woman," he drawled, "Just give it a moment, it will die on its own."

Matthew climbed off his horse and went to Brittany's side placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Yes, my lord, but it may be more prudent to end its suffering now, it is distressing the princess."

With a roll of his eyes Archibald dismounted and pulled a knife out of the small sheath on his belt, "If I get blood on my new boots you will pay Karofsky a visit," he growled to Matthew.

The prince moved to grab the scruff of the fox's neck but was stopped by Brittany's hand, "Don't hurt him, he's still alive we can fix him!"

Santana thought she had seen the depth of the man, that she had seen him at his most petty and cruel, but the look that flashed in his eyes let her know she hadn't even been close, "Take your hand off me or I cut your throat instead," he said in a tone that did not jest.

"Please, Artie…"

She was cut off with a slap that made Santana wince from her spot several feet back, "Move!" he roared trying to shove her off the dying animal, but to Santana's surprise she fought back refusing to let him kill it.

Matthew seemed torn on what to do and only watched the struggle happen, his indecision led to Archibald's frustration and that led to him losing his temper. In a flash he had yanked the arrow out of the fox causing it to scream a wet-sounding yelp as blood filled its lungs, he grabbed Brittany forcibly by the hair and shoved the bloody arrow close to her face, the tip pinching the skin just under her left eye.

"Brittany, I have about had it with your idiocy! If you do not move I will gouge out your eye and feed it to you, do you understand me you _stupid_ girl?!"

Tears were streaming and mixing with the fox blood and a bit of her own that came from the arrow breaking the skin, but the princess was either too terrified or too stubborn to back down.

Santana felt herself moving, slowly but steadily forward, it wasn't a conscious choice. As a matter of fact her consciousness was screaming for her to stay well out of it, but she couldn't. Not again, not a second time. How could she just stand there and watch him be so evil? The shame from bowing out earlier spurred her forward, even though her legs seemed to want to trip themselves in an effort to stop her, but as she tried to keep herself still she had to ask what the point of it all was. Why watch these things and do nothing, what was her purpose in the world if to not at least try? Yes, keeping still and quiet would keep her safe, but for how long? And more importantly for what? To have the honor of waking up another day to do the chores of her slavers with only a _lack_ of beatings to mark the high points in her life?

She still feared death, so much her legs were numb and her ears were ringing with it, but suddenly her steps were more determined. Immediately she knew she was being stupid and impulsive and worse yet, she had no idea what she was going to do once she got over to where they were. She was quite sure that she wouldn't make the slightest difference in the outcome of this royal squabble, but she felt she would be giving up too much of herself to let this pass.

Then, without any warning, the trees parted and a large horse burst through the trees. For a bewildered moment Santana thought the oversized animal was some sort of apparition but soon recognized the enormous stallion as the king's mount. The beast towered above her and consequently so did the king in his hunting garb, similar to his son's, but with far more ornaments and patterns. The green and gold adornments may have softened his appearance on a normal day, but as he looked down at the scene before him with rage in his eyes the tunic may as well have been battle armor.

"What do you think you are doing?" the king bellowed, scaring game out from their hiding places for almost a mile.

Archibald lowered the arrow from Brittany's face and looked snappishly at his father, "She is in the way of my kill!"

"And so you threaten your wife, the future queen of these lands, with bodily harm as if she is some slave girl that spilled wine on your tunic?! Are you mad?! Release her now!"

As much as it was clear the younger man wanted to argue he released Brittany who stood and moved away on shaky legs. Santana dashed to her side to offer support but was still surprised when the princess pulled her into a tight hug, sobbing quietly into her shirt.

The queen took that moment to ride daintily through the wild trail her husband had blazed through the brush looking bored with everything, including the drama with her son.

"Father, she is insufferable! I shot the damn beast and she wants to take it home and nurse it! She wouldn't let me put an end to it; what was I supposed to do?!"

His father looked at him like one might look at a puddle of sick and sneered, "If you hadn't been such a poor shot in the first place this wouldn't have happened," he growled notching an arrow and putting it cleanly through the fox's heart without even looking.

The pained yip that escaped the animal before it died made Brittany hold Santana tighter and cry harder.

"You are such a stupidly impulsive, impudent child sometimes!" the king spat at him, "One moment you say something that makes me think you will be a great leader, a man amongst men, the next you are slapping women around because you are a terrible archer! If you can't even manage her without throwing a child's tantrum, how can I be expected to leave you in charge of an entire kingdom?!"

At this the prince straightened and tried to look less crazed, "Father, I am sorry about my outburst, but she tests me."

The queen sniggered loudly, "Archibald, don't be foolish she does no such thing, you are just upset she doesn't give you children."

He blanched under the combined rebukes of his parents, "I am assuredly fit to look after the kingdom in your absence. I have already put a plan into effect to quell the unrest in the South that will all but guarantee the preserved alliance of your castellans. Furthermore, my wife's barren nature aside, I promise both of you that as of this moment I have no need of an heir, because I will make our kingdom nigh untouchable to any opposing forces."

His father regarded him with hard, grey eyes, "I will hear of this plan of yours, but make no mistake, if you are to continue to be this poor an example of a man I will stay, new lands be damned. I cannot leave my kingdom in the hands of a squalling babe," he said and with that he turned to leave.

The queen watched him go with a disinterested expression and sighed, turning her lissome mount easily in the small clearing and following her husband. Santana watched them leave and thought of how things would be once they left; it made her feel like the bottom of her stomach fell away.

* * *

That night, after she had escorted Brittany to bed and eaten a bland meal that tasted worse for being cold, Santana lay awake in bed. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts, none of which she could grasp and calm down. It was unlike her to be as reckless as she had almost been before the king had arrived, just thinking of what would have happened if he had waited a moment later made her shudder. It was none of her concern, not Michael and Tina, not Brittany, none of it; yet there she was getting involved and it was terrifying, because it seemed every day served to suck her in further to the dark pit of despair the castle seemed to generate.

Desperate for some form of solid comfort she reached under her ratty mattress and pulled out her only remaining shirt from the first day she had arrived. It was still dirty and tattered, but it smelled like wine and grass, something else heady that she distinctly identified with Sam. She took a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs and let it out slowly, trying to tell herself to let it all go, that Sam would have begged her to. That reasoning didn't work however, because she knew if she had been in either situation with the prince that day he would have come to her side without a moment's hesitation. She felt slightly better that she had moved to help Brittany even though, thankfully, her help was not needed. Then Tina's face flashed in front of her eyes, it made the disgust with her cowardly actions flare again and she shoved the shirt back under the mattress. She spent the rest of that dark night telling herself that Sam had only said he would defend her but really wouldn't, so she shouldn't concern herself either.

All night telling herself that and she still didn't believe it.

* * *

A/N: To clarify this universe only has two actual formally named seasons summer and winter, the other two are informally harvest season (fall) and the season of rebirth (spring).

And to those new to my writings if ever you want to know what's going on with chapter updates check my tumblr (info in my profile).


	5. Chapter 5

The going away feast for the king and queen was soon upon them, and Santana was partially fortunate to only be in charge of the princess since everyone else was burdened with twice the work. With all the new arrivals, decorations and performers, Brittany was more easily distracted than ever before, though true to her word she didn't wander off as she was apt to do, instead she looked longingly at the wall surrounding the gardens as if she could somehow see all the excitement through it.

Nobles came from far and wide bringing a wide variety of gifts for the departing nobility and more than a few for the two that would remain. It seemed everyone wanted to get into the prince's good graces before he became their king.

When they would walk through the halls Brittany's eyes would shine with excitement every time something new came in and eventually Santana gave in, allowing the princess to get a closer look at the statues, paintings and even the exotic animals that were being brought in. She also found herself joining the others in their lies when she promised there was no way their lingering around would get her in trouble. The truth was it would get her a solid lashing for having the princess so close to commoners moving dangerously heavy items, but everyone was so busy no one with authority had the time to notice.

When the night of the celebration finally came Santana watched from a balcony on the second floor of the grand hall, enjoying being able to see and not be seen. She was not needed at the moment and had been instructed to stay out of sight unless specifically called for. The decorations below were splendid; rivulets of gold, red and silver accented every corner of the hall and all three colors were their most dazzling on the royal family.

Fat lords and ladies came strutting in with words of blessing, praise and general boot-licking complements while their servants presented their extravagant gifts. The princess still had a slight bruising on her cheek and a cut from the arrow that no amount of maquillage could cover; the excuse was that she had been slapped in the face by an errant branch while escorting Archibald on his hunt. Everyone seemed content to believe it; if they weren't, they were too cowardly or too disinterested to inquire further, though each and every one of them offered 'genuine' condolences for the injury.

After the formalities there were performances put on by the many travelers who had come to entertain, and Santana found an odd sort of joy watching the princess' face whenever a juggler would make a difficult catch or a magician would make a bird appear where there had been a flower. Her face would come alive with pure, childlike joy that made Santana smile more than the performance ever could.

Once the main attractions had finished their performances, the musicians filed in and the main course of the evening meal was served. Music filled the air and as the nobles all moved to the well-polished dance floor Santana saw the strangest thing.

When she had initially heard the word celebration she'd had a completely different outcome in mind. It had stirred her memory to pick out fuzzy pictures of people dancing intensely and passionately by a roaring fire. Everyone was loud and merry, the food was as colorful and vibrant as the clothes worn by all in attendance. Even the children were involved in the laughter and dancing, their parents letting them run around until they dropped.

This was nothing like that.

The food varied in color from brown to brown-grey, the clothing, though colorful, was more absurd than anything. Maybe children would have livened things up if there were any in attendance and the dancing… no. Calling it dancing was silly. Unified walking was closer to the truth, and it was maddening, because the musicians were playing songs from all reaches of the land and everyone who stood to dance fell into those same slow steps around each other as if they were facing off with an opponent for a fight.

The only thing Santana could do was hope that Puck's gathering would be better.

Through the worrisome attempts at dancing and the incredibly boring presentations of gifts and pledges of allegiance she watched Archibald and Brittany the most, because it was like watching a renowned play in action. The two of them feigned being happy convincingly and after the encounter with his parents the prince had been disinclined to show any more anger towards his wife, but Santana felt that the truce was held together by his father's proximity to the castle.

They ate together, laughing easily with one another before they stood to danced the absurd dance that everyone seemed to know, to their credit they did it better than all the other couples. When they sat back down Santana's mouth fell open in shock when she saw him lean over and give her a gentle kiss as if he was just so filled with love for her he couldn't contain it a moment longer. If she hadn't _known_ better she would have thought all was genuinely well between them.

The night wore on and the festivities went on into the night hours, soon Santana was making her way to the ground floor to assist her princess to her bed chambers with her prince. Something she felt trepidation about despite Archibald's actions earlier in the evening. Tina fell into step next to her and together they followed them through the decorated halls and to their chambers. They walked in total silence and Santana found herself holding her breath, expecting bedlam to break out at any moment, but it didn't. They retired peacefully and even as Santana lingered by the door a hair longer than she knew was wise she heard no sign that they were doing anything but sleeping.

Partially satisfied that all seemed well and partially irritated that she was still letting herself care she made her way back to the main hall to join Matthew in seeing the rest of the guests out. The city itself hadn't settled in the least and when the doors opened color and sound flooded in through the castle gates. The guests that hadn't had quite enough excitement went to join the new festivities while others merely urged their drivers on, being carried quickly through the rowdy streets.

Once they were all gone and the castle servants began to emerge from the shadows to restore everything to its former dour glory, Santana began to make her way casually to the back gates that would take her to the path to the washing stream. At first she felt incredibly nervous as this was her first time deliberately breaking the rules in not going to the dining hall and then to her room, but soon she saw all was as Puck had predicted. The guards were either not at their posts or passed out drunk in the most unusual locations, she even suspected a few had snuck out to be a part of the city celebration in the absence of their commanders.

Feeling a little more confident, she took the long winding path through the forest, deeper and deeper in until she came to the stream. When she looked at the rushing water her face fell a little, but then she noticed that someone had made a makeshift bridge out of a long log and four large rocks to keep it steady. A smirk crossed her features as she balanced carefully on top and walked slowly to the other side, once safely across she pointed herself directly north and started walking.

Here there was no path, only tight-knit trees and brush filled with night bugs and strange noises, and after a while she began to worry that she had gone the wrong way. Then she heard something that was not a natural night sound: it was the sound of drums, fiddles and flutes. Music was wafting through the trees. Reassured, Santana pressed on until she could see firelight trickling through the overlapping branches and tree trunks and then, suddenly, she was in a wide, open clearing that was alive with motion.

This was more like her image of a celebration. The foods laid out on a crudely cut, wooden slab were colorful and plentiful and there was uproarious laughter coming from several large groups of drinking men and women. Children chased each other through the legs of the adults and there were even a few of the castle dogs running around, stealing scraps of food and licking the faces of the unsuspecting. Even the dancing was different, it was nothing like what she remembered from home, but it was much more lively and personal.

And the best part was the ocean.

Where the woods ended, logs were haphazardly set up around the outer area for those so inclined to sit and in the center was a large fire, then a open area that served as a dance floor. It gave way to a cliff that offered a breathtaking view of the endless water. Being this close and smelling the salty sea was a completely different experience than seeing it from afar. Over the music, chatter and laughter she could hear the waves crashing on the rocks below the cliff, a cliff that opened up to the sea making it seem like a black, gleaming road that she could take to walk away from Castle Abrams forever.

A smile threatened to break out, but it vanished when she heard her name shouted, "Santana!" She turned to see a slightly intoxicated Puck walking towards her, his steps were unsteady, but his eyes were focused, "Y'came! Knew you'd come!" he said as he reached her and pulled her into a tight, one-armed hug.

She pushed back against him trying not to be irritated by his sweaty shirtlessness, "Yeah, I came."

"S'good. Well, come over 'n sit with us!" he shouted unnecessarily, because not only was she right next to him, but the music had stopped for a moment as the musicians discussed their next song.

Puck dragged her over to a spot close to the cliff's edge where she saw Michael sitting next to Tina. The couple waved genially to her as Puck practically pushed her to sit next to them, but Santana found herself less concerned with his forcefulness and more with how Tina had managed to arrive before her and never cross her path.

"Hello," greeted Michael, "It's truly a wonder what Puck can put together when he tries, isn't it?"

Santana nodded looking around at all the people, "I'm surprised so many agreed to come."

"Can't spend all yer time pamperin' the royals or ya go funny in th' head, gettin' out like this's important's breathin'," Puck announced as he sat down incredibly close to Santana and draped an arm around her.

She gave him a steady look and raised an eyebrow, he smiled impishly back at her and removed his armed but stayed close, "Had t' try."

"I heard that you sing, Santana," Michael said conversationally.

Her eyes narrowed at Puck who held his hands up defensively, "Dun kill me, I'said it 'fore I knew it wuzza secret."

"Not anymore," she said to Michael coolly.

He frowned, but decided her reasons were her own, "I see. Tina has a lovely voice; mine is frightful, but I will sing with her tonight anyway. If you find it in you, join us."

"We'll see," she said, having absolutely no intention of doing so.

Santana took a moment to search out familiar faces and found there were very few, though she hardly knew anyone in the castle by name, she knew faces and most of these people were strangers. She had to assume these were the servants who worked in the castle fields, stables, and armory. Those who would be the least missed at the nights festivities hence their early arrival.

Time seemed nonexistent in the clearing as she observed the dancers and listened to the music, and soon there were even more servants joining as the night's cleanup finished and subsequently more familiar faces. She saw Beiste's hulking form arrive with her square jaw and massive muscles that made Santana think that, at some point before becoming a healer, she had dabbled in being a work horse. Tanaka appeared and though the man was scowling like always he seemed pleased to be there. After a while even Matthew arrived greeting them all briefly before departing to partake of the various foods before they ran out.

The conversation between the four was light and pleasant, but Santana could tell Puck was itching to do something so she wasn't totally surprised when he yelled out.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling, "Michael let's get th's ladies somethin' ta loosen 'em up."

Santana opened her mouth to object, but Puck had already dashed into the crowd, Michael just looked down at his wife.

"Would you like something?"

She smiled back at him and shrugged, "It is a celebration," he returned her smile and moved to join Puck on his quest, leaving the two women alone.

Santana sat in what she felt was an uncomfortable silence, not daring to glance at the other woman. They had not spoken since the time in the stables and though they had been in a situation to several times, Santana had just opted to avoid her. Shame and hopelessness reared up in her every time they locked eyes.

They remained in the strained silence for some time until Tina finally spoke, "You don't have to pity me."

The sound of her voice was startling and Santana took a moment to think on what had just been said, "I don't," she replied.

"You do. Everyone does, even the princess."

Santana had to fight to keep from gawking at her, "She knows?"

Tina gave her a confused look, "Of course she does. Archibald likes to think himself subtle, but he is no such thing. Having a woman as his personal attendant is already quite telling."

She nodded, "And the dress."

Her face hardened at that, "He likes to make it easy for himself." Santana understood her meaning and her expression must have changed, because Tina gave her a warning look, "Please do not look at me like that."

Santana averted her eyes, "I'm sorry that I didn't do anything. In the stables."

"There is nothing to be sorry for, because there was nothing you could do."

"I should have tried."

"No," she said sternly and the harshness of her tone regained Santana's gaze, "He would have killed you for it and forced himself on me anyway, and maybe worse."

She nodded, jaw tight, "I know. And I still think I should have tried."

"Santana, don't pity me and please don't try to save me. Your pity hurts more than his actions, Zheng pities me most of all and I can hardly bear it. All it does is remind me of my pain; I like you and I think of you as a friend, so please do not do it as well."

She nodded, fully understanding, "I won't."

They fell into silence again but this one was far more comfortable; they sat back and watched as others danced, kissed, laughed, and shouted. The lively nature of so many people, each responsible for their own person and none ruler of the other, was refreshing and quite a treat to take in.

After a moment Puck and Michael finally returned, their hands full with the drinks they had retrieved.

"M'lady," Puck said handing her a flask and it was clear he had downed a couple more himself between when he left and her seeing him now.

"You're drunk," she said matter-of-factly as he plopped back down next to her.

"Ish not," he slurred and took a long drag from his flask.

She chuckled and watched as Michael presented his wife her flask and sat down next to her, drinking deeply from his. Watching them together that way, relaxed and care free, she could see even more clearly how they had ended up together, he undoubtedly adored her and she him. It took all her might to keep a look of pity off her face when she remembered Archibald, but she did it. While watching them interact she noticed Tina freeze with her flask halfway to her mouth and her eyes wide. She was just about to ask what was wrong when she saw Michael's mouth fall open and then the music and talking stopped.

Santana turned her head to face the forest in time to catch Puck saying, "Well, I'll b'damned."

There, having just emerged from the trees, was a shy looking woman with golden hair wearing a rather elegant, maroon red nightgown that would be an extravagant dress on anyone currently in attendance.

It took Santana a moment to realize she was looking at the princess.

The soon-to-be queen of the Abrams Kingdom. Outside. Unescorted. After dark. In her sleep clothes. Amongst the castle servants having an illicit party.

Her face slipped into the same mask of shock as everyone else's.

"Hello," Brittany said meekly to the still air, "Don't stop. I couldn't sleep and was wandering around the castle, I saw a faint light out of a window I passed window. I just wanted to see what it was." The only reply was the roar of the ocean, "I can see now it was the fire," she added hopefully.

Matthew was the first to regain his senses, "My lady, I'm sorry you had to take in this sight, but we were just celebrating the ascension of Prince Archibald to the throne. I regret that the light from our fire caused you distress, we can have it out shortly," he said swiftly and elegantly.

"No! Please don't stop on my account. I would like to join you if I could," she said quietly.

Looking for once like he was at a loss, Matthew turned and looked at all the stunned faces, "Er… My lady, I don't think you should…"

"Call me Brittany," she huffed, "And just pretend I'm not here."

"You heard th' princess! Carry on!" Puck shouted drunkenly from his spot next to Santana.

His energy carried to the others and slowly but surely they returned to their merriment. Quite a few people who were sober and, in Santana's opinion, smart enough to think about the situation left without a backwards glance. Getting caught having a secret soirée was one thing, getting caught having a secret soirée with the soon to be queen was the sort of thing sunrise executions were made of.

The crowd was cut down to about half very quickly and all the children were ushered off by their parents. Remaining were the very drunk, the very careless, and for some reason, Santana. She wasn't sure what group she fit in and looking at Tina and Michael she wondered what inspired them to stay, maybe it was the same thing keeping her rooted to the spot, whatever that might be.

Matthew seemed determined to keep an eye on her so could only follow when Puck leapt up to drag the princess over to their group, clearly intent that she join the festivities. She followed him with a small smile on her face, one that became stunningly brilliant when she saw who she was headed towards.

"Hello!" she said excitedly.

"What are you doing?" Santana asked, almost pleadingly as the woman sat down next to her.

Her smile vanished and suddenly she looked shy again, "Am I not wanted here?"

"What?!" Puck said more loudly than would ever be necessary, "'Course 'r lovely princess's wanted here. D'mind Santana she's bein' thick," he thrust his drink into her hands, "Enjoy!"

With that he staggered off to find more mead to replace the one he gave away. Matthew quickly retrieved the flask from the blonde's hands before she could take a sip, earning him one of her finest pouts.

"My la…" he fell short upon seeing the look she gave him, "Brittany, partaking of drink while you are supposed to be in bed is unwise."

"Being out here at all is unwise," Santana grumbled.

It was an example of the princess' carelessness that lead her to do things without thinking on how it could get those she claimed to care about hurt. However, now, knowing what she did, she couldn't blame Brittany for wanting to escape her chambers for the night.

"Couldn't you have changed from your bed clothes?" Matthew asked gently.

She smiled weakly, "I couldn't find anyone to help me change."

Santana had to concede that this made sense, the woman was hopeless when it came to lace and ties and all of her servants that helped with that were here… or had been before she arrived.

"How did you get past the prince?" Santana asked.

Brittany shrugged, "I go out at night sometimes when he's sleepy, he never really cares where I go. He tells me all the time he hopes I get lost and die in the woods so he can get a new wife."

A dark silence fell over their group as the sounds of mirth from the surrounding people filled the air. Santana cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her head, "Well, he cares enough to see me beaten every time you wander off in the castle." She knew it was the wrong thing to say as she said it, because she saw the regret etch itself on Brittany's face. And having made that mistake she didn't have the heart to explain that, even though she wasn't under anyone's care, her presence put them all at risk.

Michael saw her incoming depression as well and came up with a much better idea to lighten the mood, "We should dance!" he said, quickly springing to his feet and giving Matthew a hard look.

Understanding, the dark skinned man offered his hand to the princess and she took it, a little of her earlier exuberance reappearing on her face. Michael took Tina and together the four of them moved to the center of the clearing and danced to a steady tune that Santana recognized from earlier that night.

Puck finally staggered back with another flask of mead and Santana scowled at him, "Haven't you had enough?"

"Never!" was his happy reply.

She couldn't help but grin slightly as she turned back to the dance floor, "I would think you would be spending this night trying to bed all the women you can."

He laughed into his flask, "W'makes ya think I haven't? Already found four maidens willin' ta go fer a little walk in th' woods."

She turned and looked at him surprised, "There are four women that stupid?"

"Wha… h've you seen me?" he asked wiping his hand grandly, displaying his chest in case somehow she had missed it, "'N I promise you ev'rthin' below th' waist's just's muscular and firm."

"If you are so successful and so firm why do you keep coming over here?" she scoffed.

"Cause you're th' only one lef' who's both pretty 'n untaken," he said honestly.

"I'm flattered," disdain dripped off her words.

Shrugging, he stood, "You'll come 'round," he said before staggering off.

Shaking her head, she looked back at the others and watched as Michael and Tina twirled gracefully in each other's arms looking at one another like nothing else mattered. Brittany and Matthew were doing that absurd dance she had seen in the castle but with a modified pace to fit better with the music that was currently playing. She sat quietly on the log sipping her flask every now and again and enjoying the bittersweet taste and the warm thrill it sent through her body to combat the cool night air.

The music stopped as the musicians prepared to change songs again and in the lull Santana heard the ocean more clearly and between that, the mead and the steady rumble of friendly voices she once again got that soothing feeling of peace. That is until the music started again. The rhythm that hit her ears reached inside her and pulled her past screaming into the present. Suddenly she could see it all so clearly: her parents dancing, her friends laughing, she could even remember the dark haired, brown eyed boy who always asked her to dance but got upset when she wouldn't follow his lead. She even remembered being carried in her father's arms when the night's activities were over and she was too tired to move.

The suddenness of it made her gasp and she looked around her, suddenly expecting to be back in that place at that time. Instead she found herself still at the cliffs, the property of a soon-to-be tyrant king and his simple yet sweet soon-to-be queen.

Reality made her mead go sour in her mouth and she set the flask down to watch the others continue to dance, but when she looked up she found them doing the same steps and that, to her, was unacceptable. Maybe Michael and Tina could get by with their twirls, but the silly walk dance was incredibly inappropriate.

She stood making her way over, "No, no, no, stop," she said, interrupting Matthew and Brittany, which had been her intent. However, upon seeing the princess halt, the musicians did as well and then so did everyone else; that left Santana the center of everyone's attention and that had not been her aim at all.

Matthew looked at her with concern, "Yes?"

"Th-that's not how you dance to this kind of music," she said figuring she had better say what she had intended to rather than look like a fool.

He frowned, "I cannot profess an acute knowledge of this music, but I feel our steps are sufficient."

"Well, they aren't," she said lamely, deciding to just sit down before she made a bigger ass of herself, but a gentle voice stopped her.

"Then show me the right way," said Brittany.

The thought made Santana uneasy, "Well… it is intended for a man and a woman and it requires that they be standing rather close."

Brittany laughed and spread her arms out invitingly, "I don't bite. Just show me."

"M-maybe I should just show Matthew," she said and moved towards him, but damn the luck if Puck didn't show up and slap her backside causing her to jump into Brittany's waiting arms.

"Jes show th' woman! I wunt m'music back!" Puck cheered.

Before she could protest, the musicians started playing again and the others had moved to give them room. Santana wanted to back down and return to the log and her memories, but with so many eyes on her and Brittany's expectant smile she found backing down wasn't really an option. Determined, she reached up and placed one hand on the taller woman's shoulder and laced their fingers together off to their sides with the other. Then she placed her foot in between Brittany's as she was supposed to as the lead.

It was when she took this final stance that she realized how badly she had underestimated her own definition of close, this was almost scandalous and for a second she thought she must be mistaken as to how this was supposed to go, but then the music and her memory combined and she moved. Her foot pushed further into Brittany's space forcing the taller woman to move back and after that it fell into place, she remembered this. Her hips and hands guided her partner without a word and they easily fell into the rhythm that pounded through the air.

With her body functioning purely on memory she was allowed to panic over how incredibly intimate she was being with the last woman on earth she should be so with. It was different, dancing with another woman, or maybe it was because the last time she had done this she had been much, much smaller, but she was quite sure that there was something wrong with the sensation of the other woman's breasts on hers or the way she could smell Brittany's perfume or see the small freckles on her face, and… were her eyes always that blue?

The taller woman smiled radiantly as they danced and Santana felt idiotic for being unable to tear her eyes away from it. In an attempt to gain some space she twirled Brittany away from her, but since her body was moving on memory, as it had been since the music started, she neglected to realize that the particular way she spun her would result in her partner being pulled back quickly; their bodies crashed pleasantly back together in such a way that caused Santana's cheeks to burn.

Brittany laughed at her own flailing as the twirl had been unexpected and she hadn't gotten through it gracefully, "That was sloppy, I can do better, do it again!" she giggled.

Santana _really_ wanted to and didn't want to at the same time, but since she was asked that was what she did. This time Brittany did indeed do better, but it still seemed off. Santana braced herself for the impact of her return, but nothing could quite prepare her for being pressed into by such a soft and remarkable body from chest to pelvis. It had her feeling things she had long ago learned to suppress and she did so now, with wild abandon.

Trying to focus once again she trained her eyes on the ground and offered some advice, "I'll spin you again, but when you are all the way out stomp your foot on the ground like you are trying to squash the beat under your foot before I pull you back," she said remembering what her father had said to her a lifetime ago.

She twirled her again, this time Brittany did as she was told and was right on the beat, when she span back into Santana her smile was ear to ear and her eyes were sparkling, "I think I've got this."

Santana smiled back and looked into those radiant, blue orbs and found herself lost in them, and as Brittany stared back at her with nothing but adoration the smaller girl felt a pang in her chest realizing for the first time how damn beautiful this woman was. How had she not seen it before now?

Her moment of realization cost her a step, but Brittany took the opportunity to reverse their position and took the lead. Santana was surprised by how quickly and expertly she managed it, but she didn't mind the change. Relinquishing the lead meant she could look around more freely and she saw that others had joined in. Some resuming the dance they had been doing originally and others doing their best to imitate what Santana had shown them with varying results. The only two who seemed to have mastered it as well as Brittany were Michael and Tina.

With great effort she tried to look anywhere but back at Brittany, unfortunately she found at this range it was impossible not to, and when she did she felt her heart constrict a little tighter and suddenly she didn't want to be so close anymore. Brittany was oblivious to this, however, and when her eyes met Santana's her face shone with happiness making her dance partner melt again.

When the music finally stopped Santana backed away quickly, but the princess kept hold of her hand, "That was wonderful! Thank you!"

"Yeah, um… you're welcome," she muttered trying to back away.

Brittany's exuberant smile got even bigger as she finally let her go, "So dancing is your weakness," she said slyly.

"What?"

"You're smiling. You never smile, unless you're dancing is my guess."

For the first time she realized that her mouth was indeed stretched to the limit at the corners, quickly she rearranged her features, but Brittany just laughed.

"Too late, I know your secret!"

"It… I… ugh!" she growled and stormed off to her spot by the sea; for all the good it did her, the princess followed her the whole way.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said in a small voice that made the brunette want to promise anything to make her sound happy again.

Resenting the feeling, she picked up her discarded flask and took several heavy gulps, "It's fine."

Brittany continued to look at her with that sad face and Santana could feel it burrowing into her skin, "It's not, I wasn't making fun of you or anything, I just like it when you're happy and your smile is so pretty," she said with such honest innocence Santana found her face breaking out into a small grin despite herself, "See?"

Conceding, she left her grin there and rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't know, I don't look at myself."

"Trust me then," she said.

Santana risked a sideways glance at the still beaming blonde, "Your smile is pretty, too … just so you know," she said, cringing inwardly at her own word use.

Brittany rewarded that complement with an even wider smile if that was possible, and Santana had the off thought that it would have been a challenge for Sam to match it. That notion was snatched out of her head as Brittany scooped her up in a tight hug causing the darker woman to spill some of her mead.

"That is so nice of you to say!" she said warmly into the crook of Santana's neck and the warmth of her breath made Santana's body react strongly in a way she knew it shouldn't.

Scrambling to be released, Santana pulled herself free, her face flaming red, and she moved swiftly towards the trees muttering half words and phrases like, 'S'late', 'early morning' and 'tired'.

Brittany watched her go with confusion and Santana ignored the look as she dashed back through the woods, across the log, back up the path to the castle and through the winding staircases that led her to her room.

There were only a few others currently back in their beds sleeping soundly, Santana quickly and quietly slipped into her night clothes and under the covers. It was only then in the silence of the night that she heard her heart thudding loudly in her chest and she could feel that telltale coiling feeling in her stomach. This wasn't that much of a surprise to her, it wasn't the first time she had felt unusual feelings for other women, but it had never been so intense and persistent before. The worst it had ever gotten was with Stacy and that, she had hoped, was passing fancy. Tonight had proved that her odd attraction was still with her and it made her head hurt to think that she now had one more thing to make her life just that much more difficult.

In any case she was sure that Brittany's affections were born purely out of childish exuberance and nothing more. Even if it weren't and she were trying to instigate something, and Santana was quite positive she wasn't, they could never be. Brittany was a princess… no, in a short time she would be a queen. It was the Sam disaster all over again and then some. There would be more than lashes waiting for acting on this, even thinking about it made those old scars hurt. Scars that were now layered under the countless new ones, scars that had been etched into her soul, Elisa had taught her well what the end result would be: pain - and plenty of it.

Quickly she reached under her mattress and pulled out the shirt that still smelled like wine and sweat and Sam, she bunched it up and inhaled as much of it as she could. It felt pathetic to need his smell, but it was a comfort and she needed that more than anything, she needed his comfort just like she needed his mother's lesson to be brought to the front of her memory. They needed to replace the memories of her life before being free men's property, she needed to focus on staying alive and alive meant out of trouble. And Brittany was definitely trouble.

* * *

A/N: Still lots to tell and lots to unveil so stay tuned. And no worries, I will definitely get around to Brittany and where her mind is in all this.

Review if the mood strikes you.


	6. Chapter 6

The trouble with trouble is that it follows those that try to avoid it. The more one runs, the faster trouble chases; Santana was methodically trying to escape it and failing miserably. She started at a walk by simply trying to ignore the feelings that night with Brittany had stirred. That did less than no good. All the time spent being aloof and indifferent meant that her mind ran free with the blonde in her dreams, an outcome that had her waking feeling her lower regions throbbing and she would have to spend the rest of the day trying twice as hard not to acknowledge the princess' existence.

Next she broke into a trot by trying to alleviate the tension coiled within her herself. In the dead of night she would bury her face in her old ratty shirt and muffle her moans as she sought release, but night after night, all that self pleasure got her was more vivid and stimulating dreams.

After that was a dead run, but she would need help for that. It pained her, but the only person she was sure could help and wouldn't become attached to her was Puck, and that she was even willing to consider him was a testament to how desperate she was getting.

This particular solution she tried to hold off on but one bright afternoon Brittany had gone to the garden and laid out a blanket to take a nap. It would have been fine except she insisted Santana lay with her. The brunette had done as she was asked on the far side of the blanket but Brittany had giggled and pulled Santana back flush with her front. The feel of breasts on her back and warm breath tickling the nape of her neck for an entire afternoon was enough to send her on a hunt for the handsome man as soon as she had passed Brittany off to Tina for her bath.

It took a while to locate him, though he should have been at the armory he was actually by the kitchens talking flirtatiously with one of the servant girls.

Santana interrupted them brashly by simply inserting herself in front of the young girl and giving her a withering glare. The girl blanched and scampered away looking like she might cry, Santana hadn't meant to give her that harsh a look, but her pent up frustrations must have carried it to new heights.

"What in the seven hells!" Puck snapped indignantly as he watched the pretty, young girl scamper away.

Santana leaned in close, "I don't have a lot of time and I know you don't either, so let's be quick about this," she said pushing him towards an off hallway where there was nothing but doors to rarely used storage closets. It used to be her shortcut from the soldiers' barracks to the dining hall when she was in a rush to get back to work upon leaving Karofsky's care, it was a little heartening to realize she hadn't been through this particular hall in months.

She pushed Puck into a room that held nothing but disused potato sacks and pressed him against the wall as she slammed the door shut with her foot. The room fell into complete darkness giving her the courage to pull him close in a harsh kiss.

He went with it for a moment before he pulled away breathing hard, "Hold on! Are you asking for what I think you are?"

As an answer she pulled loose the leather that held his pants up and wrapped her hands around his already hardening manhood.

"Oh! Alright then," he said barely able not to squeak his response.

His hands explored her as he kissed her back and with expert force he flipped them putting Santana against the wall. It took him no time to remove his pants and to work off Santana's, something she assumed he'd had a lot of practice with by now. He hoisted her legs up on his waist and pushed into her with a grunt. Santana hissed at the intrusion and placed a stilling hand on his chest so she could have a moment to adjust. There in the dark with Puck buried deep within her, she was finally free of her troubling thoughts and feelings; it was a relief and her body was having no trouble responding as it should. It gave her hope for herself and for her future at the castle. She gave a gentle nip to his neck and rolled her hips to signal for him to continue and he did - with gusto.

Puck had not exaggerated his skills in the least, he knew what he was doing and exactly where to touch, he made her feel hot and her stomach clenched in a pleasant way. It made her feel normal, like how she felt during her time with Sam. She threw herself into the act tossing her head back and moving to meet his thrusts and attaching her mouth to his exposed neck. She focused on him, on his feel and taste and the sound of their sudden and rough coupling and lost herself in it letting the pleasure take her over. He made her burn, he made that feeling that had been squirming in her belly expand through her whole body until she couldn't keep it inside. She was an expert at keeping quiet but she couldn't contain the gasps that came out of her mouth as she shook with pleasure.

He grabbed her hips and pushed her down so he buried himself deep into her and the sudden roughness of the action made her body go rigid and her eyes snap open. Feeling her reaction Puck pumped into her a few quick times before he pulled out of her and released his seed onto the floor. He held her for a moment panting as they both leaned against each other for support letting their muscles become dependable enough to use again.

It was everything she remembered it would be and it was certainly better than touching herself. She disentangled herself from Puck's arms and stood on her own two shaky feet straightening her thoroughly disheveled clothes.

Puck opened the door for her and waited politely for her to walk past and proceeded to leer at her as she did, "Dunno what that was about but if you want t' do it again please find me."

Santana wanted to roll her eyes, after all that had just happened he was still looking at her like he wanted to put his hands everywhere.

"I doubt I will need you again but thank you for that," she said suddenly shy about her actions, but she certainly didn't regret them.

She walked away and went to the river side to relax for the time remaining before she had to see Brittany again, she sat watching various servants come and go, some washing their own clothes and some washing the elaborate and extravagant garments of their masters. There, by the water, in the approaching night she was able to settle herself, her impromptu romp with Puck made her feel grounded; safe. With the still present tingles of pleasure that rippled through her she felt reassured confident she could easily push the events of the previous week away. She had just been too long without physical contact and now that was resolved.

After a calming rest she made her way up the complicated stairwells and halls back and was able to easily escort the princess back to her room. The taller woman was clearly ready for bed as she looked completely weary and once she hit the bed she was completely asleep.

Santana went to bed feeling elated as seeing the other woman had done nothing to her and she almost fell asleep with the same feeling of joy until she noticed that Tina hadn't yet followed her back into their room. Which did not bode well.

The next morning she woke well-rested and mentally refreshed, she'd had no dreams of piercing blue eyes and long blonde hair and it was wonderful. She was up, dressed and standing in her designated position as the prince and princess came down the overly extravagant hall from their bed chambers.

Her confidence was at its highest when she saw the blonde approach behind her husband rubbing her eyes sleepily and continued to feel nothing. None of the weird wriggling that had plagued her every time her eyes landed on the princess'. They walked by and Santana was fully prepared to fall into step with her as they made their way to the dining hall when Brittany noticed her for the first time and turned the full force of her smile and ocean deep eyes on the smaller woman.

The reaction was instantaneous and fierce, her heart skipped a beat and suddenly she felt lightheaded and weighted down at the same time. Her mouth went dry and it was impossible to swallow the lump of fear that had clogged in her throat.

"Good morning," Brittany mouthed, knowing it upset Archibald when she greeted their servants in the morning.

Santana just stared open mouthed at her trying to get a hold on something, anything within her, she wanted to be in control of her own body again, but nothing was working right. Just that simple gesture had sent her heart into overtime and suddenly she wanted to go running to the armory, find Puck and make his every dream come true.

It wasn't until she felt the heat of Karofsky's glare that she realized the princess had passed by and she scrambled to keep up. Brittany saw her arrive and fell back a few steps to walk next to her, it wasn't an unusual move on her part but this time was different for Santana, the blonde may as well have been a lit furnace since her closeness made her feel like her very clothes might catch fire.

Brittany seemed to sense her discomfort and reached out a hand to touch Santana comfortingly, but she flinched away from it like she was burned. The princess could only look confused and distressed at the reaction, feelings that were only magnified when her servant spent the whole morning avoiding her gaze.

The moment she was free she did exactly what she had planned and sought out Puck again, he was in the armory and in fact quite busy but when he saw the look on her face he set his work aside and made himself available. She kissed him hard and rode him harder, she dug her nails in his back and moaned in pleasure at his every touch. She did everything she knew to do to enjoy herself and even though Puck was in danger of angering the master blacksmith he indulged her request to go a second time.

By late afternoon she was in the gardens waiting for Brittany to be brought to her as she always did and she spent the entire time trying to settle herself. Clearly something was wrong with her if she was reacting this way to a woman, especially when she was capable of sex with a man. Whatever it was she needed it to stop and she knew she could will it to if she wanted, the desire was so blindsiding it had to have a trigger. A season ago she had wanted to throw the princess down every step in the castle and now… now she just wanted to throw her against a wall and kiss her breathless.

Growling at her thoughts, she started pacing to help her get a handhold on what was happening but nothing helped. What had changed? Sure, she was feeling less animosity, and Brittany's plight with the prince made her seem less like her captor and more like a fellow captive but how had that turned into the current situation? Admittedly, she had always, albeit sometimes grudgingly, found the princess attractive, and she was always very kind and her body was incredibly soft…

The memory of them pressed together dancing came into her mind and made her cheeks flame and her insides squirm.

_Damn that dance and Puck for having it!_ she thought acidly.

The whole situation was beyond frustrating, not only did she feel a burning desire between her legs for someone she could never have, it wasn't even possible for a woman to pleasure another woman in that way.

Behind her she heard a light floaty laugh that meant Brittany was coming and the things the sound did to her let her know she was going to have to think of something besides Puck to keep her in check. Sighing as she saw the princess come into sight she decided to do the smart thing and keep it all inside, even if it felt like she might implode trying.

Brittany came to the garden in her usual high spirits, but when she saw Santana her smile fell a little and suddenly she looked shy. Santana could see she clearly wanted to ask her about something, probably, giving how trying her day had been, the way she had acted that morning but the darker woman was in no state to go into what was bothering her, so she just looked away irritably. Seeming to understand there was no hope of dialogue, the princess instead moved on to sit by the pond looking out over the water and hummed to herself.

It only took a couple of notes for her to recognize it as the song she had sung to comfort Brittany, and she unwillingly felt an all-encompassing calm that the woman had remembered it so well. There was a comfortable silence with only her voice filling the air before it suddenly stopped and the blonde spun around to face her.

"Do you not want to be my lady in waiting anymore?"

Santana was definitely taken aback by this, "Sorry? …M'lady," she added belatedly, her surprise making her forget her courtesies.

"I thought we were becoming good friends but you seem to hate working for me now more than ever. I don't want you to go, but I don't want you to stay if it makes you that unhappy to be near me." Her face was venerable and open, causing Santana to want to run away before she did something incredibly stupid… like considering _not_ taking the offer.

Her desire for distance was being granted, she could get away and not have to bother with Brittany or Puck, but simultaneously she was drawn to the woman, she wanted to stay by her side always. No. Stay by her side and more, and it was the more that was going to get her beheaded. To refuse would be difficult, like a drunkard turning down a magical offer to rid the world of alcohol. It _would_ rid her of the temptation but she suddenly realized how much she liked it, how much she would miss the way her heart danced when that smile was turned on her. To stay was to condemn herself to a sweet hell and her life was already too much to handle. She needed this to stop. Now.

Fortifying herself to cut the tether she opened her mouth and said, "No I am content to remain in your service m'lady."

As Brittany's face exploded into a luminous grin Santana stood blinking dumbly; what in the hell had she just said?

Quickly, she reviewed all the thoughts she'd had and then the words that had come out of her mouth. They didn't match at all. Despite that she felt like she was almost trembling with relief at not being forced away from her favorite obsession.

"I'm so glad!" the princess shrieked jumping up and enveloping her in that familiar hug that made her brain unable to understand her words or their meaning, "That means you'll be able to sleep by my room now! We can talk all the time!"

One word broke through the fog in her mind: _What?_

"What?"

Brittany put her down smiling widely, "The king and queen leave tomorrow, that means Artie and I will take their place and change room. The queen's personal lady in waiting sleeps in the room next to her bed chamber."

"Yes but King Archibald will be there for you to talk to," she said irritably backing away a few steps so her head would stop feeling like she had downed a barrel of mead.

She noticed Santana's withdrawal and it made her calm her exuberance to a mild happiness, "Usually but Artie plans to move me into a different bed chamber down the hall, though he made sure that it has a place for you next to it."

That was bad for more reasons than Santana could even comprehend at the moment, "The king approves of this?" she asked knowing she shouldn't.

Brittany shook her head, "He doesn't know."

"Oh."

"But you won't have to worry about Karofsky because he won't be in charge of you anymore… well, unless you do something really bad…" she said quietly.

Right away she thought of ten 'really bad' things she wanted to do, "Alright."

"You aren't happy." It was a statement not a question.

"M'lady I am pleased to serve you," she answered dutifully, because being overly familiar with the soon-to-be queen was going to lead to serious trouble, especially now when it was clear that there were going to be more chances for it.

The princess seemed less than thrilled with her answer, "I was hoping for you to be pleased to spend more time with me," she pouted.

Santana's hand twitched with the effort not to reach out and touch her, to wipe the pout off her face and show her how much she wanted to spend time with her.

And at that, something inside her told her that whatever happened, it would not end well.

* * *

The next day was a blur of movement, there was a farewell ceremony at the castle and then the official crowning of the new king and queen of the land while the old rulers gained the title of king sovereign and queen sovereign. Not that Santana had any idea what those titles were supposed to mean. Afterwards she was forced on a large overly adorned horse to ride beside the royal procession as they made the journey from the castle to the docks to see off the old rulers to their new conquests.

The docks were located at the bottom of a narrow trail that dipped dangerously low before opening into a small cove that opened to the ocean. There was no other way down to the water save for the sheer violent perfectly vertical drop from the cliffs that surrounded the castle making the port the only entry point by sea and as such it was heavily guarded. The horses followed the royal procession single file onto the wooden docks, the sound of hooves echoing loudly in the closed space. Santana tried not to feel daunted but when the sight of over fifty ships, each ten times the size of the largest house she had ever seen, came into view she gave up trying to still that feeling.

There were words spoken in foreign tongues, there were colorful birds released into the sky, there was even a brief speech given by Archibald that apparently moved his mother to tears from what Santana could see of her. The entire proceedings started when the sun was in the noonday position and they did not end until it began to sink into the ocean painting the cool waters fiery reds, oranges, and pinks, only then did king and queen sovereign dismount and board their ship. They all waited even longer for the ships to set sail and when they finally did Santana watched as they floated off into a sea that now looked blood red.

Once they were out of sight Archibald ordered they return to the castle and quietly the procession reversed and did so.

Santana rode a good distance behind Brittany as the woman seemed troubled and she didn't want to tempt herself to stick her nose in it. Matthew seemed to notice her excessive distance and slowed his mount to match its strides with hers.

"You seem troubled," he said quietly, keeping their conversation between them.

"We all have troubles," she said vaguely.

His face darkened as he looked ahead at his king, "Indeed."

Santana looked over her shoulder at the ships that were now mere specks in the sunset, "Is it normal for a king to bring his wife with him on a conquest?"

He glanced at her with a small smile, "No. Not at all. But our king sovereign is an unusual king in that he has never had eyes for a woman that was not the queen and this campaign will be a long one. I doubt he could stand to be away from her that long. He displays extreme confidence in his own abilities in taking her with him…" There was a pause where he seemed hesitant to say something then he went on far more quietly than he began and Santana had to strain to hear him, "He also shows a lack of confidence in his son's ability to protect her."

Curiosity overtook her, "How?"

"Well I would say it is all romanticism, that he took his queen sovereign with him because he couldn't bear to be apart from her, but the truth of it is that he took his wife on a highly dangerous campaign and left his personal guard to watch over his son." Her eyes snapped to Azimio who, she had just noticed, was still with them several paces ahead, ridding close to the king, "Those actions speak of a man who fears the outcome of what his occasionally irrational son may do if left to his own devices without an heir to stake claim to the castle, should he parish. I also think this Sovereign title has something to do with it. Officially his mother would outrank him and who can respect a king whose mother has the final say in his actions? Naming him regent would have a similar effect in his parents' absence as the title does not carry the same weight, and in these troubled times he needs all he can get."

"What is a king sovereign? I've never heard of it."

He smiled wryly, "Of course you haven't, it's made up. Actually it is quite brilliant. He gave his son his old title, one that the people of this land know and respect then created a new, grander one for himself and set sail to make the inhabitants of a far away land know and respect it. His son has power, esteem and the obligation to relinquish the throne should his father return, successful or not."

Santana could see the sense in it explained that way, "So it is up to our king to keep the kingdom safe until the king sovereign returns."

Mathew shrugged his shoulders slowly, "If the king sovereign is able to conquer the lands like he believes he can, he will stay there indefinitely."

Her eyes flicked to the back of the king and over to the queen slumped slightly in the saddle a few lengths behind him. Looking at them, she could see this would bode well for no one.

* * *

Changes in the Abrams Kingdom began almost immediately, starting with Archibald moving his bed chambers down the hall, in fact so far down the hall it was in another wing, and stretching to Azimio and Karofsky having their positions switched. Azimio was made understeward and also given the title of royal executioner so as not to insult him. Executions were usually done by the captain of the guard and as such the axeman had no official title, but Archibald wanted to create such a title so that his allies/ possible enemies would know that the option of death for their betrayal was always open. This was something that Matthew did not approve of and Santana thought it a bad sign that the king was dismissing the council of his wisest advisor so soon after his father's departure.

Karofsky was promoted to Azimio's old post and was even knighted for good measure, the public reasoning being that he had known Karofsky longer and better than Azimio but Matthew had discreetly informed her at the knighting that Azimio, with his large frame and stoic face, frightened Archibald. Santana found that information highly amusing as she had always suspected him of being foolishly afraid of nothing.

Tina was moved to the room next to the king's as Santana had been for the queen, a fact that had Michael sulking hotly for over a week, no one could blame him and no one had the words to console him. It seemed like everything changed overnight, even the color of the servants' shirts changed from white to red.

With all the change Santana hoped her inner turmoil might as well, and it did, but in the sense that it got worse.

In the mornings she was no longer expected to be out in the hall and waiting, nor was she allowed to pass Brittany off to others, the queen was her responsibility throughout the day. The queen sovereign had left a few of her servants behind to help with tasks like washing clothes, cleaning her room and all manner of chores that would pull Santana away. This meant being confronted with the sight of the sleeping blonde first thing in the morning; waking her to watch her rub her eyes and yawn cutely before assisting her in getting dressed and brushing her hair. The morning ritual alone was enough to have Santana worn out for the rest of the day but she was now also in charge of bathing her and helping her undress for the night. It was pure torture.

She had to eat her meals before the queen rose in the morning and after she went to sleep at night, and with her other duties being tended to, it left large gaps of time for her to be alone and awake in her room at night. However, after having to take over bathing duties, her only reprieve was a long stretch in the middle of the day when the king and queen would sit in the council room to discuss everything, from the civil disputes to hearing the individual complaints of the nobles who lived by the outer wall. At those times they were attended by the apprentices of the monks that presided over the council chambers and kept evil in all its forms at bay, something that was clearly not working in Santana's opinion since Archibald always seemed to get in fine.

Her long breaks were the source of another change; she went from random sporadic visits to Puck to seeing him daily, almost like clockwork. She found she had to or the stress of being so incredibly close to the queen made her too distracted to do anything right. However, she knew it was a flimsy bandage on a pouring wound, the reoccurring dreams she would have of waking Brittany with a kiss, one that was greedily returned, left her far more stimulated than any tryst with Puck. Being with him fixed nothing but it helped, until one day, a moon's cycle after the king and queen sovereign departed her carefully built restraint all came crumbling down.

The morning was the same as all the others, Santana woke and went to the kitchens to eat her morning meal before going to Brittany's room and waking her, a task that was never easy. The queen woke, her blue eyes confused and shining. A few blinks and eye rubs later she was up and moving to the desk at the far side of the room that held all of the necessary items to prepare her hair and face for the day.

There was a knock at the door and Santana moved to let in the small force that came in every morning to style Brittany's hair and apply powders to her face for beauty though the smaller woman felt it was hardly necessary. Beiste came in as well checking the many wounds she had and asking her general questions about her health as the other women bustled about her.

The many bruises that covered the queen, in her separation from Archibald at night, had finally been allowed to heal and it made her already eye-catching figure captivating. The truth of it evident when the others exited and Santana was left to help her mistress remove her clothes without drooling all over herself. Of course, as was her nature, Brittany was oblivious to all of this, she would talk about all the things she wanted to do that day and how eager she was to go to the gardens. Santana just listened with passive interest, her mind was occupied mainly by the uninhibited view of Brittany's backside and she was leering so hard she was quite sure anyone who was even slightly more aware would have felt it after the first few moments. The intensity of her stare was not noticed but it did leave her unprepared and totally vulnerable when Brittany turned unashamedly around to excitedly talk about the ducks that would be passing through the garden on their migration south. She had seen the queen in such a state of undress before but such a bold uninterrupted view when her mind was already in such turmoil made this time completely different.

A stretch of time passed where Santana just stared at her, holding the dress she was supposed to be helping the blonde into limply at her side. Her body blazed with heat, her heart leapt into her throat and her head began to swim, but only because she had yet to realize she had stopped breathing.

The dress dropped from her hands and even as her mind started to scream at her to stop staring she continued to rake her eyes up and down the form in front of her. Brittany noticed the change and stopped smiling, suddenly worried.

"Santana are you alright?" she asked moving forward and touching her arm.

The contact sent sparks all over the smaller woman's body and she jerked back with a gasp, her need to breath finally being addressed, "Don't touch me!" she barked, desperate not to feel the same sensation any more intensely than she already had.

Brittany's face crumbled into a mask of hurt and surprise, "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Santana scrambled to cover herself, "No, your majesty, I am. I shouldn't have said that nor should I have yelled. Here," she said quickly retrieving the dress and helping her into it.

Brittany did as she was bid, but her smile never did resume its normal cheerfulness. Santana felt bad about that, but she didn't have time to think about it, all she could do was focus on getting to Puck.

She found him waiting in the storage room they had first met in, it was where they always met and he had taken to arriving early and was usually already hard for her. This was one of those times and she was thankful as she climbed on top of him and buried his member deep inside of her hoping to get her mind off of what had happened that morning. But she couldn't. What was worse, as she rode Puck, panting and gasping in the dark, she could see Brittany; her body, her breasts and the fine golden hair between her legs, and it was those thoughts that made her groan louder than at the rough way Puck was kneading her breast. The thoughts wouldn't leave no matter how hard she tried and in a moment of weakness she stopped trying and imagined what it would be like to touch her, to see Brittany's face contorted in pleasure, naked beneath her. That was when _it_ happened, that unusual intense coiling feeling that she had been unable to truly satisfy, that tension that Puck couldn't expel from her no matter how hard he slammed into her, that feeling grew and grew until she could feel it ripping through her innards and in between her legs and the magnitude of it scared her.

Desperate to escape it she tried to pull away from Puck but his hands were now on her hips keeping her in place.

"Stop!" she cried, terror lacing her voice, "Puck! Stop! Let me go!"

She felt his rhythm hitch and though in the darkness she couldn't quite make out his face, she could hear his confusion, "What? You serious?"

"Yes!" she snapped and the moment his hands left her she scrambled off his lap breathing harshly.

He shuffled into a sitting position, his breathing almost as irregular as hers, "What am I supposedta do about this?"

It was too dark to see, but she assumed he was gesturing to his member, "I'm sure you can fix that," she panted as she collected her clothing off the floor and pulled it on quickly.

The last she heard of him was his growl of frustration as she slammed the door behind her.

That encounter left her on edge for the rest of the day, and she even feigned illness at the queen's bath time so she could go hide until later. Nightfall found her brushing out Brittany's long blonde hair and trying not to notice how the smell that wafted from her made her unsatisfied body tingle hotly. Brittany seemed subdued but Santana knew she was mistaking her mood for anger not lust and she was content to keep it that way.

Later when she had finally finished eating she took a bath in the river to get clean and cool herself down, something she had done determined to keep her every touch innocent. Once dry and in her night clothes she lay wide awake in her room, not moving a muscle. Though the new one was far more spacious and offered complete privacy and a much more comfortable bed she found herself missing the presence of others in the room with her.

The privacy and the quiet made it tempting to try and finish on her own what she had started with Puck, in fact her body was still screaming for it even after her icy bath in the river, but the memory of what had almost overtaken her scared her from trying. Even though not touching felt like it would cost her sanity.

The next day she decided the no touch ordinance extended to Puck as well, she knew he would be confused when she didn't show up as she had been doing but she decided he would figure it out quickly enough. The only thing left was to work out what to do with herself. Ironically Santana found the agony of not touching or being touched worse than her daily beatings she had received upon arriving. They had only hurt physically, the torment she was feeling now followed her deep inside her mind and danced inside her dreams. The only thing more torturous than _that_ was Brittany's attempts to find out what was bothering her with kind touches and soft words. Her condition was making her jumpy, irritable and angry, something even Matthew noticed in their brief interactions though he made no comment on it. Keeping it all inside helped nothing and soon she wondered if she just might one day die from the intensity of it.

Luckily for her she didn't die, though after a dozen days with frazzled nerves she did almost lose her temper thoroughly when Puck approached her at the river one day.

He had intended to give her a light fright by poking her in the side, her response was to punch him in the jaw, it had hurt far worse than he had imagined a blow from someone of her size could deliver.

"Ow! Calm down! I was just comin' to talk to you," he grumbled rubbing his jaw.

She glared at him, until his features registered and she realized this was someone to whom she owed an apology, "Oh, Puck. Sorry I thought you were… it doesn't matter, I shouldn't be hitting people for touching me," she sighed returning to staring at her features in the reflection of the water.

Puck straightened himself up and sat next to her, "Had ta ask around to find you. What're you doin' out here?"

She shrugged, "I have no idea. Waiting for the queen to leave council, I suppose."

He snorted, "All this free time and you sit at the stream?"

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Santana turned to look at him, "I'm sorry I left you like I did, it wasn't right of me to demand your time like that and just leave."

He laughed, "That's alright, I was confused when you left in the middle and was a little mad when you didn't come the day after. But one'a the kitchen girls came looking for a potato sack 'n it all worked out, so you're forgiven."

She laughed at that and she realized that it was the first time she had honestly and openly laughed that hard in ages, "I'm glad it worked out."

"Well, tain't surprising you ran off. Thought you would from the start, started to think different after a time, when you kept comin' back after such a long time."

Her eyebrow went up, "How could you know that?"

He gave her a sly smile, "Don't mean to brag, but I will. I know women and I know sex and I know the many different reasons women have sex. You were using me to outrun somethin'."

Speechless, she just stared at him before stuttering, "I, I wasn't- I mean I was but- there were-"

He held up a hand, "Don't worry your pretty head about it, I was glad to help."

There was a longer silence that followed before Santana ruined it by blurting, "I like women." She was mortified the moment she said it but infinitely relieved to have said it out loud. Even though she had no idea what the repercussions of speaking of her perversion would bring.

"Sorry?" he said cocking his head to the side in confusion.

She let out a deep breath and steadied herself to say the words again, "I like women." When Puck just stared at her with his eyebrows knit together she elaborated, "I like women the same way you do."

Another beat and his eyebrows were still stitched together until understanding washed over his face and his features relaxed and his mouth opened in understanding, "Oh."

"It's sick and weird, I know," she said and she could feel tears pricking at her eyes, "I just really wanted to be normal, I have enough problems without something like this."

He watched her curl into herself and tried to think of something helpful to say but all he could come up with was, "I don't think it's sick, besides you aint the only woman I've heard of that does."

"Really?" she said too full of hope and vulnerability for her liking and took a deep breath. Upon letting it out she felt more of the weight on her chest leave and she had to admit she felt the best she ever had since the dance.

"Yeah."

The air was calm again and Santana thought on what he had said, about her not being the only woman to share her unusual tastes. And given that the information's source she had to wonder if it hadn't been made up just to make her feel better. Somehow it seemed unwise to willingly trust any and all information from a man named Puck.

Frowning slightly she turned to him, "Why are you called Puck? Was it just your mother's whim or is there something behind it… if you don't mind me asking," she added upon realizing she was asking unusually personal questions again.

If Puck minded he didn't show it, "My name's Noah. But it's only Noah, never knew my ma's name 'n since I was a bastard they wouldn't give me my pa's. His surname was Puckerman, and since I couldn't have the whole thing I just took a part."

Santana nodded, "It suits you."

"I know," he said flashing his cheeky grin.

She chuckled slightly as she stood, brushing her pants clean of debris from sitting in the grass, "I should go, the queen will be out of court soon."

"I should, too, but I hate the armory," he replied, flopping back on the ground.

Before leaving she stared at him, not knowing how exactly to express what she wanted to say, but eventually settled on the simplest and most direct phrase, "Thank you," she said sincerely.

He grinned up at the sky and waved her away which she understood to mean he understood exactly what she was thanking him for.

* * *

A/N: Reviews welcome ^.^


	7. Chapter 7

When Santana woke she immediately knew that it was far too early for her to have to attend to her duties; she was also sure that what had woken her was a terrible dream. If she thought on it she could have recalled it, but not wanting to bother she merely sat up and rubbed her eyes. Whatever had scared her awake had done so quite thoroughly, she was more than a little aware that sleep would not return to her anytime soon.

Sighing, she stood and paced her small room, cursing its lack of windows and stale air. As she paced, she could feel the details of her dream dancing on the edges of her mind and, unwilling to let them seep back in, went to her door and cracked it open.

Unlike her previous living arrangement her new room opened directly into the royal's grand hallway, leaving her door to be one of the most modest in sight. Right next to her was the large, ornate door of her queen and she suddenly had a whole new line of thoughts to fight out of her mind.

Without wasting another moment, she dashed into the hall and moved swiftly and silently to a heavy, wooden door at the end of it. There were guards posted in various places throughout the castle, but ever since the king sovereign left they were mostly centered around Archibald's room which was a long trek away. Even so, the guards never bothered with servant entrances, so once Santana closed herself in the small hallway she felt quite sure she wouldn't be disturbed.

However, once she took a full step in, she realized that the small window that overlooked the ocean was letting in gusts of air that felt like they could freeze her breath in her throat.

Shuddering, she considered returning to bed but then thought about sitting alone in the small room with only her thoughts and was easily able to walk up to the open window and take a deep breath of the crisp, salty air.

The cold filled her and cleared her head easily; it felt so good she did it again, loving the way her breath created long clouds that floated away, free of her and the castle. She sighed a third time, but this time almost chocked on the frigid air when a voice reached her.

"You shouldn't have only your night clothes on in this cold."

That was true, but the moment Santana heard someone speak her whole body warmed up with undiluted fear. Wide eyed, she looked around for the source but saw no one, however, she recognized the voice. Tina was somewhere around her, well hidden in the night's darkness.

"Where are you?" she asked the air before her.

"Down here."

Santana would have looked to her feet if she hadn't realized that the voice had originated outside. This seemed equally absurd, however, because the window was easily high enough to overlook the castle and the ocean beyond.

Frowning, she leaned her head out and looked down to see the other woman indeed outside, sitting on a ledge two arm lengths below the window. It was just wide and large enough to sit on and Tina was doing just that, wrapped up in a blanket, drinking a cup of something she assumed was hot since the liquid was pushing steam into the air.

"Care for company?" Santana asked.

Tina gave her a nod, "Be careful."

She leapt on the window sill nimbly and lowered herself down on the ledge, only feeling the dread of their considerable height from the ground as she lowered herself. Falling didn't only seem possible, it seemed likely with only her arms to keep her from death, but then Tina offered a steadying hand and assisted her in sitting next to her.

Once she was seated, Tina offered part of her blanket and Santana gladly wrapped herself in it, surprised at how soft and warm it was. She wasn't sure she had ever felt anything as nice in her life, as soon as she wrapped it around her all of the cold was shut out, trapping the warmth from herself and Tina in an instant.

"Where might I get one of these?" she inquired, marveling at the soft fur from an animal she couldn't identify.

"It was a gift from the king."

Santana's face fell and she wanted to throw it off of her, but it was _really_ cold, and if Tina could bear to be wrapped in it she could surely find a way to stomach it.

"I wouldn't think you'd want to take anything from him," she said carefully, ready to let the topic go if Tina seemed unwilling to discuss it.

"I eat his food, wear his clothes and tend to his every need, I see no reason to not use his gifts to escape him," she said before taking another sip of her warm drink.

Santana eyed it jealously, until she caught a whiff of the scent it gave off, "What is that? I mean no offense, but it smells terrible."

Tina hummed in agreement before taking another sip, "And it is also a bit poisonous."

Brown eyes widened as she feared she was watching her friend take her own life, she couldn't say she hadn't ever thought of doing the same, but something always kept her from it. Something inside her that wanted to keep going no matter what, it was hard to fight and at times she hated it, because her life was full of moments where dying would have been preferable. She had no right to tell the woman what she should do, but somehow it seemed too sad to just sit by and let it happen.

"But I think if you do this it will kill Michael as well. He loves you so much and-"

Tina halted her by waving a hand, "I said only a bit. It isn't deadly in small doses."

"Then why drink it?" she asked quizzically.

Tina's eyes settled on the ocean far beyond before she answered, "I have no choice in accepting that man's gifts, I take them and am forced to act as though I am grateful. I will do these things, because the consequences if I do not are dire. However, the one thing I will not accept from him is his child."

Santana frowned deeply, trying to draw the connection between that and what the woman was still taking small sips of, but suddenly it was clear. She had heard of women who could empty their wombs with certain herbs, but she had always thought of it as an old wives tale.

"I thought he wasn't able to have children," Santana said in a small voice, feeling as if she needed to tread lightly but not wanting Tina to feel pitied by ignoring the subject completely.

The other woman took another sip of the concoction and shrugged, "I don't want to be the one to find out differently."

Santana nodded and pulled a little of the blanket up and over her ears to warm them, "Is that difficult to make?" she asked feeling the question wasn't as invasive but not obviously avoiding the ugly reality of Tina's relationship with the king.

"No, but the ingredients can be difficult to find. Though Zheng always finds a way."

Ah, Michael. And now she knew how the king's slave and mistress was able to get such a thing unseen.

"Aren't you worried he might find you gone?"

"He won't rise till morning."

Santana would have asked why she was so sure, but the hard look in Tina's eyes and the tension she could feel from the woman next to her told her all she needed to know.

The words 'I'm sorry' were on her lips, but she didn't let them pass, because she too hated pity, though it didn't stop her from feeling it.

Deciding she had dwelled on the subject long enough, she made an effort to change it, "Do you know anything about Azimio?" she asked, desperate for something else to speak on.

Tina seemed a bit thrown by her question, "I don't," she said, tilting her head slightly, "But no one does. When the king sovereign first sailed to the new lands across the ocean many years ago, Azimio came back with him. No one knows why since he doesn't talk to other slaves, save for cruel words."

Santana chuckled, "He didn't strike me as the type for kindness."

"He isn't."

Tina took another sip of her heated poison and Santana found her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Brittany, but instead of trying to stop them she merely refocused, "What about the queen, how did she come to be here?"

"It was before I arrived when she and the king were engaged, but I hear it was shortly after she was born. The land across the sea has many fierce warriors commanded by many strong tribes, the stronger ones are farther inland and the weaker are pushed to the sea. When the king sovereign sailed there the first time he came upon the larger of these lesser clans. While there, he befriended the ruler of the tribe; he told the ruler of the power he held in his own home and soon they struck a bargain."

Santana was listening with such rapt attention she allowed the blanket to slip down her shoulders, afraid to move and correct it lest she miss a word.

"The trade was simple, the king sovereign would get a portion of lands the ruler owned and an ally, in exchange the ruler's daughter would marry his son. So when the girl was old enough to make the long voyage, she was brought to this land by her parents who wanted to see that it was all it had been claimed to be and, satisfied, they left her here."

She didn't know why, but somehow that story reminded her of herself, "Doesn't she send word to her parents? Tell them she is being mistreated?"

"When she was younger she did, I was there to see that."

"What did they reply?"

"I don't know, but as they are still the king's allies and her beatings still continue I have to suppose they do not care."

Wrapping the blanket more securely around herself Santana sighed, "How does she do it? How does she get up every morning and smile like she does?"

Tina tapped her finger against her mug before taking another long drink finishing the foul smelling liquid, "I've wondered that myself, she wasn't always that way. She used to be quite sullen, but then when she married the king she became the woman you know now."

"On her wedding day?" Santana asked miffed, "Was _he_ different before then?"

"He didn't start to hit her until it was clear that children were expected of them and none came, but no, I cannot say he was particularly kind to her before then."

And just like that Brittany was an even more puzzling person to Santana than she had ever been.

* * *

The newly crowned king and queen ate their morning meal at the royals table, which was far too long for two people, in the chairs previously reserved for Archibald's parents. It was an arrangement that the king enjoyed due to his status and hated for the proximity he was forced to have with his wife.

Brittany was currently playing with her bread again, ripping off pieces and prancing them through the foods on her plate like a horse. Archibald was watching her from the corner of his eye as if he wanted nothing more than to take her plate and hit her with it.

"Brittany, my love?" he said finally, teeth clenched and his tone just barely cordial.

"Yes?" she responded sweetly, missing the bite to the endearing term.

"Eat your food like a woman of your age or I will knock out all your teeth so you can eat it like the infant you are behaving as," he said quietly, so quietly Santana would have missed it if she didn't have her ears perked to the sound of his voice, and a protective urge to break his hands surged through her. It wasn't new, apparently her attraction led her to feel possessive and protective, but luckily the urge to strike him was easier to stow away than the urge to touch Brittany.

She stiffened in her seat and immediately put her bread down, "I think I was done anyway," she said, quietly pushing her plate away.

Archibald nodded and looked over his shoulder to Matthew who was standing a few paces away by Tina and Karofsky, "Come here," he beckoned and reclined lazily in his chair, "So tell me what should I know for tomorrow?"

Matthew strode forward to be at the king's side, "Highness, Lord Schuester has sent out an emissary as per your request, I just received word their caravan will arrive by tonight."

"Who has he sent?"

At this question Matthew paused, "Erm, he… he has sent Lord Hummel."

Santana didn't know who Lord Hummel was, but judging from the way Archibald almost choked on his food and Karofsky's eyes widened suddenly then narrowed dangerously, she had to assume he wasn't someone who was overly loved by Castle Abrams.

"Is he _trying_ to start a war!" the king screamed, pounding his fist on the table.

"In all likelihood," Matthew said, calm in the face of his king's fury, "He knows how you feel about him and is probably hoping that you attack his peace emissary in a rage over the slight. It would make you look impulsive, cruel and unjust which would be crippling to your image with your father not even a season gone."

Archibald studied his aid carefully, "Well, it _is_ a slight and I _am_ angry, so what should I do?"

"Nothing. Not to Lord Hummel in any case. You should be courteous and listen to what he has to say with an air of polite interest even if the terms of the renewed peace are outrageous. Lord Schuester is trying to get you to react poorly and bring yourself down without having to land a blow, which is what will happen if the people of this kingdom find their leader to be a tyrant."

"Alright," he grumbled, "Brittany, leave us, I need to speak to Matthew in private."

Brittany didn't even pause as she stood and turned to leave, Santana fell into step with her and Tina moved to leave as well, but the king reached out and grabbed her arm, "No, you stay." And Santana did not like the way he said it.

For the first time Santana noticed how worn and weathered the other woman was. Since they had moved out of the servants' quarters they had hardly seen each other, the previous night was the most time they had spent together in a long time. Tina tended to spent her long midday break with Michael as much as possible, and Santana had been so wrapped up in her own internal turmoil she hadn't noticed anything on the few occasions they did see one another.

All she could do was give her what she hoped was an encouraging look and pray that the king's failure to beat his wife didn't mean he was now beating his mistress.

She escorted Brittany down to the gardens where the queen thankfully let Santana be and fed the ducks some of the bread she had snuck out of the dining hall. Santana couldn't help but smile and wonder again how she did it, how she could still, after everything, be so kind and innocent.

Seeing her staring, Brittany smiled and ran up to her, blonde hair bouncing as she did, making her look more like an exuberant child than royalty. When she reached Santana she held up the piece of bread she had in offering.

"Do you want to feed the ducks, too?" she asked, expectant hope written all over her features.

Santana felt a surge of emotion well up in her chest and it was totally different than the raging beast that was being caged in the pit of her stomach, this was warm and tender and it made her want to reach out and hold her and protect her from everything bad in the world. It was just one more thing to deal with, but this feeling made her so calm and quiet that it didn't even occur to her to fight it. Then she reached for the offered bread, their fingers touched and everything washed away, everything in the garden but Brittany standing there with her sparkling eyes and sweet smile, and Santana was entranced. That warm feeling filled her and she felt a peace stronger than any other, stronger even then what she felt when she lived in a small house at the edge of the forest with her parents. It brought with it all the memories she had locked away and everything good about her previous life that she had tried to forget - her lost words, her mother's song, their dances - all of it hit her at once, and at the heart of it all there she stood the one who had started a tempest within her at a touch. The one who had the power to turn her world over and over without any hope of stopping.

Under the trance of that gaze nothing mattered but Brittany, her mind was incapable of working out how anything else could ever matter as much as her and the joy she brought. The blonde held her gaze unwaveringly and suddenly, like during the hunt, her body started moving without permission, but unlike then she was not torn about it. Everything that was happening was fine, because those blue eyes were burning a hole straight into her soul. Santana felt herself move forward until the bread was the only space between them and she saw her hand lifting and she came to the fuzzy, uncaring conclusion that she must be about to kiss the goddess before her with the sky in her eyes.

Then there was a shrill scream and the world came crashing back.

Santana's head snapped around looking for the cause of it, but saw no one. She looked nervously at Brittany who had found the source of the sound and was smiling benignly.

"It's a crow," she said simply, but Santana could tell she was a little shaken by what had just almost happened.

The smaller woman looked up at the bird and as much as she hated that the moment had been broken, she was thankful.

"Yes, it is," she looked away from her feathered alarm, "You should go feed the ducks, I wouldn't want to take your fun."

Brittany pouted and Santana had to avert her gaze from it, "Okay, but if you want to, please join me," she said, her bright smile slipping back on her face easily.

Santana watched her go and sighed; at that moment she vowed to be more careful around the other woman as she glanced back up at the crow that sat in the tree branches, watching her darkly.

* * *

The next morning was like every other and completely different. Santana woke Brittany up at the same time she always had, took her to eat, and escorted her to court, but now, more than ever, she was extremely aware of the other woman's presence. Her every move, her every breath was observed by Santana who couldn't pull her eyes away. She had to watch closely, because the queen was a person who loved to touch and hug and Santana had to minimize skin contact as much as possible, it was giving her the worst kind of headache to imagine how she would get through her nightly bath, let alone all the ones she would have to give every day after.

By the time she was free to do as she pleased she was exhausted from the mental strain and went to relax under the trees by the stream again. And once again Puck came up behind her but much more noisily, in fact he was almost shouting.

"Santana!" he cheered, sliding to a stop at her side, "Listen, you have to tell me what gods you prayed to, because they answer faster than lightning strikes!"

She looked up at his smiling face, discerned that this particular grin wasn't his messing about grin, and raised her eyebrows at him, "What?"

He dropped to his knees, almost shaking with excitement, "Prepare yourself," he said dramatically and paused, "Lord Hummel is comin' to the castle."

They stared at each other in silence, her face neutral and his excitedly expectant. Santana broke first, "I knew that already, but what does it have to do with me?"

"What does it…" he frowned at her, "You never heard of Lord Kurt Hummel?"

"No."

"You remember when I said I'd heard of women with your… uh, same tastes before?" she couldn't control a blush as she nodded, "Right, well, Lord Hummel would be th' one who introduced me to the idea."

She stared at him, "How did he do that?"

"I'm not explainin' this right. The Hummels are the only high born family in th' entire kingdom that castellans from every corner trusts. All their coin comes offa deliverin' important messages from one place to the other 'cause you can be sure if it is with them it'll arrive as it was written or told and it _will_ arrive. Means they are constantly on the move too, they have a home, I think Kurt's pa stays there now 'cause he don't run the caravan anymore. Anyways," he plowed on, waving his hands at his own tangent, "the Lord Hummel in charge now travels heavy on company, namely men and women who're homeless otherwise. Like runaway slaves, folk the gods weren't so kind to when making their shape, n' those too weak or sick to do slave work. He takes in everyone who's been thrown out and gives 'em a respectable job. He even pays them. Gold," he finished impressively.

Santana blinked up at him, "I fail to see where I fit in, unless you are suggesting I join as a freak that needs employ."

He waved wildly again, "No. Will you listen. So, Hummel himself is a little different 'cause he ain't ashamed to let it be known that he likes the company of men."

Santana thought this over, "That still doesn't involve me though I was once owned by a man who liked small boys and only bought me, because he thought I was one."

Puck slapped a hand over her mouth, "Use your ears, love. Hummel ain't into children, he is a remarkable man and treats nobles n' slaves with the same respect. What I'm sayin' is he also takes in folk that share that same desire. He's a man who desires men so in his caravan there's a lot of other men like that, but there's also a buncha women that only desire the company of their own."

With that he released her mouth, "I still don't see where I fit in. Am I supposed to go up to these women and ask for advice?"

"Maybe, but I was thinking you might walk up t' one of them and ask to bed them."

Santana felt her whole body grow hotter than the sun at that suggestion, "I don't think-"

"Before you try 'n talk me out of talkin' you into this, think about it. Your problem's that you like women, but yer the only woman here that does." Santana looked like she was going to interject some skepticism, but Puck interrupted, "Trust me, I know. So I think ya work out some of the tension you got that has you lookin' like a cat on a fence with dogs on both sides."

She had to consider that it made more sense than trying to never touch the queen when the woman seemed to thrive off physical contact. If sex with a woman didn't subdue her obsession maybe it would just give her more time to figure something else out.

Still a bit shy about her situation, she nodded at him and Puck's face exploded into joy.

"Perfect! They will make camp inside the castle gates and I know just how to sneak in. While yer lookin' for a lady to charm, I'll find the ones who love me as much as I do, there's this one blonde I see every time Hummel comes through. I know she'll be waitin' for me."

"That's almost sweet of you," she joked.

He shrugged, leaning back to join her in the grass, "She has th' most beautiful eyes, they're this green brown color and I swear if you look in 'em deep enough you can see specks of gold."

"She sounds lovely."

"Hands off," he said in mock warning.

They shared a laugh that rang loudly in the bright, cloudless midday sky.

* * *

As night approached, Santana felt like she wanted to change her mind about sneaking out of the castle. Sure, she really wanted to try and get her mind off Brittany and she was definitely interested in meeting other women who shared her idiosyncrasy. And she was almost _too_ eager to know how two women could engage in sex with each other at all, but the thought of being whipped by Azimio made her feel like it really wasn't worth it. At least those were her thoughts before she had to undress Brittany and wash her; after that she was immediately back to her plan to meet Puck.

She waited for him at the river and when he arrived she had to try and conceal her shock. He had come dressed in fine, rich, dark silks that made him look like a young lord, his short hair was gleaming and he smelled like flowers and fine oils.

Santana couldn't suppress a smirk as he got closer, "You must really like this woman. Where did you get those clothes?"

"Might've nabbed some stuff while folks was passed out at the noble's party," he said nervously, "You think it's overdone?"

"You look handsome."

"Perfect," he said flashing his usual smile.

He took her arm and led her from the river to the golden lights that were shining in the distance from the caravan that had set up in the courtyard. Santana had seen a little of it as she had worked that day, but it was mostly workers bustling around and setting up camp. Now as they approached, she gasped in awe as she saw the many tall and elaborate tents that comprised the Hummel caravan. They slipped in along the side from an unguarded section facing the woods, allowing them to avoid the surly looking guards that watched the front entrance. And once past the tight section of tents that formed the outer wall she found it was more reminiscent of the market at the castle gates, though this was far grander. It it was less like a market and more like a carnival; there were performers playing music and juggling as they sat around fires, talking happily, and there were portable stalls set up selling food and drink that looked more than delicious.

Santana hadn't known what to expect from this place, but her knowledge of Puck had led her to believe it would be as rowdy and licentious as a brothel. In truth, everyone was calm and in high spirits; there were men and women in random places who were clearly together, but their touches were innocent and loving. She couldn't help, but notice that there were quite a few beautiful women about on their own, some looking busy others just wasting time watching the performers around them.

Puck obviously wasn't interested in them as he looked around nervously, apparently trying to locate the lady that had caught the attention of the flirtatious rogue. With a light tug she got his attention and signaled that it was alright for him to go off on his own. He smiled anxiously at her and dashed off to find the source of his disquiet.

Santana wandered though the tents that seemed to form their own city and wondered, not for the first time, what she was even doing there. It wasn't like she was comfortable enough with her own preferences to ask another woman for a kiss, let alone anything else. She personally hated it when men acted as though the greatest gift a man could give a woman was sex, so she naturally assumed that even if she did meet someone of the same persuasion, any advances she made, again assuming she didn't just run away part way through the advance, would be unwanted. These thoughts bounced back and forth for quite some time as she stood motionless in the shadows of a nearby tent, trying to make herself have more courage, but in the end she just gave up.

Defeated before her search had even begun, she wandered over to one of the vendors selling choice cuts of meat. She eyed them hungrily, deftly aware that the only thing she had eaten since arriving was bread and crow stew, and even at that her last meal had been skipped to come to the caravan. It was worse than being in the kitchens where all the smells blended together to generate the pleasant aura of food, this was concentrated meat smell and it was making her want some like she had never wanted anything… well, almost anything.

With a sigh she decided against stealing from the cart as it could have consequences more dreadful than she was willing to face for a taste of real cow. She turned to leave but froze as she saw a man standing behind her, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye. Something about him made her uneasy and she quickly decided it was the way he was dressed. It wasn't so much that he was wearing clothes she would associate with being more feminine in nature, it was that the quality, the colors and fabrics were far more elegant than anything anyone else had on - he was high born.

"White blouse, black pants and a silver belt, clothing that gauche means not only are you from the castle, you are one of the royal servants," he said in a neutral tone, his face had a small smile and his eyes still danced, Santana didn't know him well enough to know if that was good or bad.

"Sorry, I'll go," she tried, but before she knew it he had trapped her under one arm and turned her back to the stall.

"Nonsense! I saw you drooling over our selection of fine meats here, have some."

This was surely a trap, "N-no, thank you," she sputtered, "My lord," she added not sure if it was warranted in this situation or not.

Apparently it wasn't, because the stall's owner and the man who had her trapped doubled over in laughter, meaning she had to bow low, too. After a moment he was able to collect himself, wiping away a tear of mirth.

"Lord? Please, no one calls me that. Lord Hummel is my father, I shall always be Kurt," he said, extending the hand that wasn't around her shoulders.

She took it cautiously, "Pleased to meet you," she said, though she wasn't sure how courteous she sounded since she couldn't hear her voice over the pounding of her heart in her ears; of course she would be caught by the emissary himself.

"Same. Blaine, prepare a spread for the lady," he said to the man behind the stall. Santana tried to intercept the order, but Kurt cut her off, "Don't fret over money. I won't have the servants of Castle Abrams saying I'm an inhospitable host." Again, she opened her mouth to protest that she wouldn't do any such thing, but he carried on, "You know, I saw you come in with Puck, oh dearie I always notice Puck," he added seeing her surprise, "When you came in on his arm I assumed he had finally gotten over our dear Quinn, but here you are alone and she is currently neglecting her washing duties and cannot be found. What do you think that means?" he asked, feigned confusion on his face.

She had been told that he had no problem being familiar with low born slaves, but even taking Brittany into consideration this was the most casual conversation she's ever had with someone above her station. That added with the fact that she hadn't really understood half of what he said made her keep her mouth shut.

"Here you are," said Blaine as he handed her a plate littered with different meats and complementing breads.

Kurt looked at it and pouted, "Now I want one."

Apparently knowing that was coming, Blaine provided a second plate for Kurt and a sly wink, the small man took it and gave a coy smile in return that's meaning couldn't be confused. Though she had been warned, Santana was still shocked to see their display happen so obviously and publicly. Even more surprising was that clearly several of the stall's patrons had seen the exchange and not one person seemed even slightly bothered.

"Thank you, Blaine, I'll see you again soon," he said with a grin.

Blaine's smile grew and he winked back before turning to a woman who had just arrived to order food as if nothing major had happened, and given the reaction of everyone, nothing had.

Kurt finally removed his arm from her shoulder to start eating the bountiful meal before him, Santana still wasn't sure of the man, but if he was as he seemed she really liked him.

"Come on, dear, let's go to my tent, I have a wine there that will make the flavor in the pork just explode," he said before biting off a mouthful of bread.

She wanted to turn him down and disappear somewhere, still fearing this to be some sort of jape or a calm reprieve before he had her seized and beaten, but when he began to walk away, talking animatedly as if he were positive she would follow she did. She wanted to avoid being rude to the man who had given her the first real meal she'd had since the Evans', besides he was intriguing she couldn't help but want to know more.

He led her to a tent at the center of their camp that looked more like a tall, well-lit cottage made of leather. The leather was painted to match his banner colors of blue and grey, but the blue was very light and the grey was closer to white, it gave a light and airy feel to the structure even though it was heavy and closed.

There were hastily built stone steps that led to the interior and there Santana realized how large this particular tent actually was. As it turned out all of the smaller tents around it adjoined to the main one, making a sort of tent castle, though nowhere near as complex as the intricate one she was used to.

She stood, uneasy and still, as Kurt disappeared behind one of the silk curtains that led to one of the many branches of his temporary home and after a moment he reemerged with a bottle of wine and two goblets. He had a triumphant smirk on his face as he sat down, one that faltered when he eyed her still standing by the doorway, awkwardly holding her plate.

"What are you doing? Come, sit. I swear I'm not part scorpion."

She managed a weak smile at the joke and carefully came closer, sitting in the seat opposite his as he poured her a glass of the blood red wine.

"Thank you," she said tensely, took the goblet and marveled at it.

The cup was bejeweled with diamonds and rubies inlaid to its golden body; she had never touched anything worth so much in her entire life. The idea of drinking from it made her fidget, but when she looked up and saw the expectant eyes of her host she did so anyway.

The taste was almost overwhelming and it far outstretched even the good wines Puck managed to smuggle form the kitchens from time to time. Pleased, she downed more and had almost finished the entire goblet when Kurt laughed, pulling it away from her and filling it again.

"Slow down! Like I said, try it with the pork, they go together quite well," he laughed.

She blushed and nodded as she did as she was asked and was forced to immediately agree with him, the dryness of the wine and the grease from the pork mixed, cancelled each other out and then produced something wonderful.

"You're right," she said unable to contain the delight in her voice.

"Of course I'm right…" He observed her closely for a moment then gasped, placing his hand over his heart, "My goodness, where are my manners?! I haven't asked your name."

Almost choking in her haste to answer she swallowed thickly, then replied, "Santana."

His eyes began to twinkle again, "What a lovely name! From the sound of it you must be from the Far South, beyond the kingdom's borders. Well, at least your name is."

"My parents were," she said.

"Ah," he said knowingly, "I see. So! What brings you here?"

She frowned, "I was sold from place to place until the king sovereign bought me."

"Nonono, _here_. To my camp," he said his tone making it plain that he was curious and nothing more.

"Oh…" She paused and then a blush crept over her face as she remembered the reason, "Puck said it would be fun."

Kurt's mouth twitched at the edges, "Knowing what Puck finds fun I must assume you are here to lure some of the men who are lounging in the camp into providing what Puck apparently cannot."

"N-no," she stammered and hated herself for it.

He considered her answer with a playful curiosity and after a moment that twinkle returned to his eyes and his lips once again began to tug upwards, "I see, so you aren't here for my vast selection of gentlemen? Am I understanding this correctly?"

Determined not to stutter again she answered him a little louder than she had to, "Yes."

"Do you juggle?" he asked.

She felt herself in danger of stumbling over her words again, "Wha… uh, no."

"Do you play an instrument?"

"No."

"Do you sing?"

"Not for others."

"Are you trying to escape from the Abrams'?"

"No!" she answered strongly, for some reason feeling like answering incorrectly would have Azimio come barging through the tent.

Now his eyes were practically sparkling with light and his grin was almost scandalously huge, "I see, so you aren't here looking for employ, and you aren't here to juggle, sing or try to discuss such things with people that do and you aren't here for the men. I will assume that as a servant you have no money hence why you were trying to walk away from Blaine's divine cooking." He paused to take another bite of meat, "Meaning you can't be here to buy anything and you are empty handed, so no trade. Now, having eliminated all the things you aren't here for I return to your declaration that you came for what Puck told you would be 'fun'. I have to ask you to define fun, because I need to know what was worth risking a lashing to come and see or do."

Santana was speechless, he had cornered her rather thoroughly, "I really should go," she said placing her plate on the table and rising to leave.

Kurt stood quickly as well, placing a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder, "Alright, calm down, you don't have to tell me. I can see you have a problem giving trust…" He wavered and gave her an almost parental look of understanding, "And other problems that are well within your right to not tell me about."

She tried not to stare rudely back, _well within her rights?_ Puck was absolutely right, he was like no other lord that had ever existed. And she had the nagging feeling that he was trying to imply he knew why she was really there, but there was no way he could know.

Kurt released her and she sat back down, immediately eating more of the delicious meat to give her something to do besides look uncomfortable. He watched her eat and eventually glanced at one of the silk curtains that separated the sections of his home behind where she sat, deep in thought.

After a moment he turned back to her looking serious, Kurt sat back in his seat and took a bite of bread before he spoke again. "Listen, I have a couple of friends I met some time ago who came looking for the same thing I think you are. They spoke of their shared interest and as it turned out they were able to… help one another. They should be sleeping about now, but if you wake them and tell them I sent you I am sure they will be more than happy to tell you about what it was they went through. Now, I may be wrong and if I am, please forgive me and ignore the ramblings of a man that has maybe traveled the world a little too much," he said conversationally while indicating the silk partition just behind her.

Santana stared at him levelly, not understanding what his purpose was in telling her all this, but she decided that since he had bought her food, given her finer wine than even Archibald had tasted and treated her like an equal, the least she could do was oblige him. She finished her meat, bread and wine in silence with Kurt before she stood and cautiously approached the silk divider he had indicated.

Before she entered he called out to her, "Santana?" she turned, startled by the sound of his voice, "In case I don't see you again, or I insult you to the point you go out of your way to never see _me_ again, I wish you the best."

She had no idea what he was talking about, but she appreciated the sentiment and nodded, "Thank you for the food… and the kindness," she said before she moved forward.

Once through the divider, she had expected to be in another tent, but instead she was in a hallway composed of the same material the main building was. Feeling a little alarmed, she walked down the long hall until she saw another silk curtain in front of her. She approached carefully, fearing an ambush of some sort despite all of Kurt's kindness. The first thing she heard made her think she had just walked in on the previous victim to this trap, but as she crouched down and pulled the curtain back slightly her breath left her throat and her mouth hung open not taking in one bit of air.

Before her was everything she was sure she would never find and all she had imagined, though it was nothing like she thought. In the center of the tent, atop a bed of sheets and furs, there was a woman as naked as the day she was born, her blonde hair spread out behind her as she moaned in pleasure. A pleasure that was being given to her by another equally naked woman with her face buried between her legs.

Santana tried to swallow, but it was like there was nothing but dust in her throat, her brain was buzzing trying to comprehend what she was looking at. No matter how she tried to figure otherwise, she finally accepted that she was watching the very thing that she was sure couldn't happen between two women, at least not with results as pleasurable as being with a man. If the blonde was anything to go by, she had been more than a little wrong. She knew she shouldn't be staring at them like she was, but she was literally rooted to the spot, she couldn't feel anything but her head, which was fuzzy and reeling, and a very specific spot much lower that was thrumming in a more uncomfortably insistent manner with every passing moment.

The dark haired woman who was offering her lover such pleasure ceased her movements, much to the blonde's distress and moved up her body to kiss her passionately and Santana almost whimpered as her mind easily made the two women become herself and Brittany. In that moment she knew nothing she was seeing would make anything any better and if she wanted to ever be able have a moment's peace again in life she would need to move - but she didn't.

She couldn't.

Santana was lost now, there was nothing she could do; she was lost in a fantasy of her and Brittany and all the things she had wanted to do but hadn't known how. She was more aware of her limbs now as her muscles burned from being crouched and still for so long and still she couldn't make herself turn away. When the brunette kissed her lover even deeper and pushed herself into the blonde Santana remembered thinking that the position was perplexing and more than likely uncomfortable, but the sound that emanated from both women shook her to the core and a fresh wave of warmth took even the sting of her aching muscles away.

Her breath was coming in small, short gasps and she could feel the wetness of arousal in her underclothes, her thoughts were only of herself and her own blonde with ocean blue eyes, enjoying each other's bodies in the same way. Then her trance was broken as she heard a loud laugh from nearby.

It came from somewhere outside of the tent, but it was enough to make her realize what she was doing and the moment it hit her she felt panic replace everything else.

How had Kurt known about her? Was it that obvious? Was there some way to just look and tell? Had he known this was what she would find?

An irrational terror took hold of her and she yanked the leather tarp up from the ground and scurried under it, desperate to get away from the tent, the caravan, all of it. With great effort she pulled herself out of the faux hallway and took off running for the same area she had come in through. As she ran she felt like everyone could see inside her, see what she had been watching, knew how it had made her blood run hot and she became mortified with herself all over again. Distantly she was aware that she should wait for Puck and that even if there was a big sign over her head telling her secret no one at the camp would care, but those thoughts didn't break past her barrier of fear.

She ran from the camp, to the castle and through the main hallways to her room without even trying not to be caught. In fact, she would have been relieved to run into Karofsky or Azimio, a beating would take her mind away from that tent and those women whose every movement was burned into her mind and nothing she did drowned it out. To her distress she reached her destination without running into anyone and in the dark seclusion of her room it was all worse. She lay in her bed keeping her hands well away from herself and sang tremulously to the empty air, hoping not to hear the sounds that were bouncing around in her head. It didn't work at all, but eventually she fell into a sleep that had her waking up even more frustrated than when she had gone to bed.

* * *

A/N: Posting this from my car outside my apartment as a driveby update as my work has lost wi-fi. FML.


	8. Chapter 8

Come morning the only relief Santana was offered was that, due to such a harrowing night, she was too exhausted to be overly troubled when she rose the next morning and saw Brittany laying in bed, the covers bunched at her feet and her gown halfway up her body. The sight did make Santana groan in frustration and her thoughts did immediately go to all the wrong places, but her body just buzzed with all the excitement it could manage and, given how tired she was, it wasn't much.

Despite her lack of a notable physical reaction, Santana went out of her way to avoid direct contact with Brittany. She knew better; she knew no matter how tired she was the heat of the blonde's touch would ignite every frayed nerve in her body and make it burn out. Her efforts were noticed and it clearly confused and upset the queen, but Santana was still too worn out to even try and deal with that, her life had just thrown another heaping helping of trouble on a plate already full of it, and she needed time to adjust.

All internal torment aside, she was able to get her mistress out the door and to the dining hall in time to have her morning meal. Archibald arrived shortly thereafter with Matthew, Karofsky and Tina in tow as was now his habit, soon the kitchen servants brought out their food and the king and queen began to eat a peaceful breakfast. Peaceful until the young king broke the silence that is.

"Matthew," he said quietly and the other man stepped forward in response. It was then that Santana was shocked to see the king pointing at her, "Send that one and Karofsky to fetch Lord Hummel to join us."

There was a silence and the only movement was the pointless opening and closing of Matthew's mouth before he was able to speak again, "My lord?"

"You heard me," he said softly.

Clearly struggling with whether or not to speak out, Matthew didn't move for a moment before he continued, "If I may be so bold Majesty, sending a servant to fetch a lord… even the queen's, even with Karofsky, is sure to be seen as a slight."

Archibald looked peevishly stubborn as he shrugged, "Will it? I am merely asking him to join our meal as we discuss the terms of this ceasefire. And he is practically known for his love of servants, so I'm sure he won't mind."

"To discuss… but surely you mean to do that later during court-"

"Do I, Matthew?! Do I also mean to sit here and be questioned by my servants?!"

The matter was clearly not up for further debate, Matthew just sighed and nodded for Santana to go with Karofsky. It surprised her to find that the burly man was about as interested in their assignment as she was.

They both walked down the long, winding servants stairwells to the courtyard in silence, both lost in their own worlds. Santana, at least partially distracted from the events of the previous night, was almost in awe of the king's insatiable need to cause trouble for himself. She, like everyone else in the kingdom, knew how badly he needed this alliance to go well and yet he still sent a servant to fetch the emissary. Even she knew that any self respecting lord doing the job Hummel was would expect to be greeted by a member of the council at the very least and the king's chamberlain at most. This was meant to humiliate the other man, to make him seem like a child being called to his parent's side. It was foolish and made their king, if fact, seem the child.

They arrived at the camp in good time, the morning light taking away some of the mystery of the night before, or maybe it was because Santana had gleamed some of its secrets during her brief stay, either way the tents seemed far less daunting in the morning sun.

Entering the camp by a direct route instead of through the cover of darkness the tents provided gave Santana a different view of things as well. She found that there were several guards posted at the entrance, guards that halted them and discerned their purpose before one left the group to inform his lord of their intentions.

In the moments that passed, Karofsky began to look more and more agitated and after a while he fell back several lengths, leaving Santana to look like she had come alone. If she still hadn't borne such a strong hatred for the man she might have asked him to return, but as it was, any distance between them was fine by her.

Kurt appeared momentarily after Karofsky's retreat, looking more stunning and dainty than most of the ladies that lived right outside the castle gates. He had on a lovely, dusky gold tunic that was ruffled and accented with sparkling blue lace and his pants were a melody of various colors sewn together at the sides with thick leather. Santana would have looked him over more thoroughly and maybe noted how soft his short, silky hair looked, but the sight of him made the past night's events crash to the front of her mind and her cheeks flushed red.

When he walked forward and saw her, the look that crossed his face made her believe he knew of the slight he had been dealt, but instead of complaining about his escort he rushed to her, taking her hands in his.

"Oh, Santana, I'm _so_ sorry! What must you think of me? I asked Emily how your talk went and when she said she didn't see you because she was… otherwise occupied I figured you must have seen. Please do not think I am some sort of degenerate, I honestly didn't know," he pleaded, his face sincere and honest.

Kurt's confession made her feel much better, though she wasn't sure why - it changed nothing about her current situation. "It's alright," she said, hoping it would calm him.

He let out a deep breath and took her arm in his as though they were companions on a stroll, "Thank the heavens. I was so worried I had done irreparable damage to our friendship, I mean, I was already taking a risk in assuming you three shared the same interests at all."

"I think no less of you," was all she could say, she couldn't bring herself to mention that he had been quite on target with his assumptions.

As they walked they approached the place where Karofsky stood, and upon seeing them the man's face went rigid with rage, his beady eyes fixed harshly on Kurt.

To his credit, the smaller man looked up and smiled jovially as they passed, almost singing, "Hello, David," making the impossibly stony face tighten more. When they were quite some distance from him he began to follow keeping the space between them.

Santana frowned sideways at the burly man, making sure to keep her voice low, "You like Karofsky?"

"Hmm?" he hummed absently, "Oh no, not particularly. A few years ago, when we were both younger, he came to my camp seeking something that he found in my bed chambers and has spent every moment since glaring at me like it might make me forget. I haven't though, not the sex, the fact that he curled up into a ball while crying afterwards or that he came back more than once."

Santana didn't know if she was surprised or totally and utterly shocked, she opted for the latter by the time they reached the dining hall.

The king and queen were sitting right where she had left them still pleasantly enjoying their food. The king didn't even acknowledge Kurt when he came in the door, a deliberate act of dismissal since his clothes alone would be enough to gain the attention of someone several leagues away. The small man calmly walked in and sat in the seat offered to him by Matthew, a few places away from the king himself.

Brittany greeted him politely, something Santana could tell irritated her husband, and he waved amiably back at her. After an unnecessarily long pause Archibald looked over to the other man with a smile that didn't reach any other part of his face.

"Lord Hummel," the king said, regarding the smaller man with cool indifference.

"Your Majesty," the reply was prompt, respectful and void of any sign of irritation, Santana had to be impressed as she slipped back into her place against the wall next to Tina.

"Would you like something to eat?" Brittany asked lightly, a smile on her face, one that vanished with the glare Archibald shot at her.

"No, Highness, I have already eaten, but thank you."

With an irritated sigh Archibald turned back to Kurt, "So," he began, wiping his mouth slowly, as if wanting to waste as much time as possible, "What are the terms that Lord Schuester wishes to set forward?"

Kurt, in a blatant mockery of the king's sudden interest, took his time in answering, picking a few non-existent pieces of lint off his pants before replying, "They aren't really terms. Lord Schuester asks that you cease and desist all efforts to evict your citizens from their properties."

Archibald frowned, "In exchange for what?"

Kurt mimicked his facial expression, "In exchange for them not killing every single soldier that comes to take their homes."

Santana didn't think that Archibald's face could turn as red as his banners, but it did, "So he thinks to send threats instead of terms for peace?!"

"Oh, absolutely not, my deepest apologies if it seemed that way. The people of the South are quite disturbed by what has been happening since your father's campaign began and they decided they would rather fight and die than lose their lands. When I say that, I mean they would rather fight you or the king sovereign, whosoever they felt was the threat. I will not lie and say that Lord Schuester does not agree with them and back their cause, but you should know that with or without him the South will rebel should things continue as they have."

"Maybe so, but without William the West and North won't follow!" Archibald spat angrily.

"They already have Majesty, the South is just the most… visceral about it."

He paused, "And you know this as fact?"

Kurt shrugged, "As much as a man traveling through towns in those areas can be sure of. It's not like I have received any sort of official notice about it, but I think it is quite plain they do not intend to watch you take their land."

"Their land?!" he barked.

"Correct," Kurt said innocently.

"So this is why you are here? To tell me that they do not offer any sort of compensation or even so much as an apology for what they did and to furthermore inform me that the same insult will happen again if I attempt to take land that is rightfully mine?!"

There was a moment where Kurt considered this and finally he sighed, "Essentially you have the heart of it, but this is not meant as an insult. They offer no apologies or gifts, because they are not sorry and know you wouldn't accept them besides, and yes the land they farm in actuality belongs to the crown, but you must realize these aren't just farms and houses, these are ancestral homes where they and their parents were born. I am here on their behalf to ask you to not throw them aside to fortify your castle, especially since we are not actively at war with anyone on our land. This is a time of peace and you are asking your subjects to make wartime sacrifices."

Brittany listened to his words and Santana could tell she was trying desperately to grasp it all. "It is a little much," she said in the quiet that fell. "Maybe we could reach some sort of agreement with them and get them to let us borrow their homes temporarily, but only when under attack."

Kurt smiled at the offer, but Archibald's eyes flashed dangerously, "My love," he said quietly as he reached over and cupped her cheek softly. "Perhaps you shouldn't worry yourself about such things as you clearly do not understand what we are discussing here."

His words were kind, but Santana could see him slip his hands into her hair as he spoke and judging from the way the tendons in his arm suddenly jumped, and the apprehensive smile on Brittany's face that was replaced by one of the fake ones she used when she was trying not to cry, she had to assume he had a fierce grip on her.

She nodded imperceptibly and when Archibald removed his hand she looked determinedly at her food and did not speak again. Santana felt a swell of rage for the man that rivaled her ever burning hatred for Karofsky.

"Her Majesty makes a good offer," Kurt said, he had clearly seen the exchange for what it was as his face was disapproving, but continued on as if he hadn't, "If you insist on pressing them as you have been, then Lord Schuester will indeed rally the other castellans to join his cause and, if their forces are not enough, they may turn to the enemies of the crown."

"You dare to-" the king started.

But Kurt cut him off, "I dare to nothing, Highness, I am merely the messenger in this case. William has no more desire for war than you do, but the people must be heard. If you ignore this, if you try and push them they will push back in any way they can. You must understand that if you take them from their homes they will have nothing and those who aren't in danger of it now will fear the day when a fancy for their land might overtake their king. It is the lack of necessity and sympathy that is starting this rebellion and nothing else. I am more than willing to travel back and forth between you as many times as it takes to resolve this issue, and please believe I want it resolved. The South will concede to fair conditions, but you have to make them first."

The king leapt from his seat, "You want me to fold to my own subjects? You think their threats carry any weight in this castle?! You think I am so much of a fool I would show even my closest council that much weakness?! They think because my father is gone they can run all over me, do they?!"

Kurt had risen as well and Matthew was tentatively trying to calm Archibald with soft words, but everything was lost under the sound of his rage.

"I am not making threats or boasts! No one calls you weak, but many are beginning to fear you are cruel and unyielding!" Kurt snapped, all of his calm pretense gone.

Archibald's eyes narrowed darkly, "Then go back and tell them that the offer their king makes is their unconditional and immediate cooperation, and I suggest you pack your caravan and leave my castle before I decide to truly be cruel and unyielding."

There was no room for argument in that and Kurt didn't try, he only bowed deeply and showed himself out, Karofsky glowered hotly as he passed to which Kurt responded with a smile.

Once he had gone Matthew stepped forward looking pale, "Sire, what have you done?"

Archibald rounded on him so fast his slick hair fell into his crazed eyes, "I will not be told what to do by my own subjects!"

"But this will start the very war your father asked you to suppress."

The king's laugh was high and derisive, "What do I have to fear from wine makers and cow herders? The majority of their force has been sent here or overseas with my father, they don't have the manpower to stand against me."

"If they join with our enemies they will!"

"That kind of alliance will take years to cultivate, especially if they send freaks like Hummel to do their talking. I will have broken them into submission by then."

"They aren't that weak! You are underestimating their current forces all while overestimating ours! I told you that you need to prove you are a better leader than Lord Schuester, at this rate all the kingdom will see you as is an ill-tempered bully. You have made a very serious decision without so much as even conferring with the Council."

Those grey eyes almost turned black with rage, "You forget your place, Matthew! You are addressing a king! You dare imply I need the Council's permission to do anything?! That I am not in fact a greater ruler than Schuester?!" Before Matthew could reply he rounded on Brittany, who was quite surprised to be addressed as she hadn't moved an inch since he silenced her, "And you!"

Santana had known rage before, she had grown up with it as her only friend, but what she felt when Archibald smacked Brittany across the face hard enough to throw her to the ground was something new and far more volatile.

Brittany hit the floor hard and was already bleeding profusely from her mouth when Archibald started kicking her as hard as he could repeatedly, "If you ever open your mouth again during official discussions. I. Will. Kill. You. Understand?!" Archibald shouted, accenting his words with more kicks to her stomach.

Santana saw red, and as had happened before, she started moving towards them without even thinking about it. Once she'd get there she would kill him, she would rip him apart, she wasn't sure how far she could get, but Karofsky was still glaring after Kurt, so she was sure she could open an artery before he got to her. Her feet were moving faster now, though this time it was deliberate and purposeful. Then suddenly a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back to the wall and Santana was just cognizant enough to realize it was Tina.

"Let me go," she growled, because this was it, she was really going to kill the man.

Instead of loosening her grip, Tina held her tighter, pressed her hard against the wall and whispered in her ear, "Stop it! You won't help her, you will only make it worse. I know it's hard to watch, but you have to stay out of it!"

Her voice was sharp and stern and when Santana turned to look at her she saw sad, tired eyes looking back. But how could Tina understand all the ways this was killing her? She could hear him still driving his boots into her and could hear Brittany try to scream even though the pain had stolen her voice.

Tears were burning in her eyes and she couldn't stand it, but she knew Tina was right, there was nothing she could do that wouldn't make everything worse.

Luckily, Matthew managed to rattle off a list of duties that needed to be performed as well as the necessity of a battle strategy if he were planning to fight. It would seem to the casual observer that he had just brushed off all that had just happened and had decided to move on with the day, but Santana saw it for what it really was. An attempt to distract the king from his current task which was to beat the life out of his wife. The ploy worked and soon Archibald was straightening his hair and calling Tina and Karofsky to him as he swept from the room.

Wasting no time Santana rushed to Brittany's side, feeling her chest tighten upon seeing the blonde lying on the floor, trying desperately not to cry. She had no idea what to do, but when Brittany tried to sit up, winced in pain and fell back to the floor Santana caught her and managed to set her upright gently.

The kitchen staff came in swiftly, as they always did, picking up plates and crumbs and righting the queen's toppled chair, all ignoring the scene in the middle of the floor. However, when Michael came in and saw Brittany's state he rushed right to her side.

"What do I do?" Santana asked, feeling more panic with every moment that passed with blood still streaming from Brittany's mouth.

"Beiste, we need Beiste," he said quickly, got up and sprinted away.

Santana thought he had lost his mind momentarily and then remembered that was the name of Brittany's healer. The blonde sat dazed and bleeding and Santana was just panicked, wishing she knew of some way to help, nothing came to her except to speak kind soothing words until the large bull of a woman came and scooped the wounded queen up into her arms. Santana was a little shocked as she hadn't heard the approach, but quickly got over it and trailed after her as she took Brittany out of the dining hall.

Beiste brought them back to the queen's room, lay the smaller woman down on her bed and pulled a leather bag out from under the bed that contained all sorts of supplies. Santana wondered how bad things must really be if the healer kept spare tools in her room.

It wasn't long before the bleeding stopped and her stomach was examined, the damage turning out to be nothing more serious than bad bruises. The enormous woman turned to her looking about as worried as Santana felt.

"She'll be alright. Just… do your best to keep her on her own for a time. Those bruises are bad, but consider her lucky, if something like that happens again too soon I may need to open her stomach to treat her."

Santana did not like the sound of that, so she nodded firmly. The healer smiled softly, returned her tools to their previous spot and left, dropping the two women into a heavy silence. Brittany was sitting quite still on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor. Even when Santana approached and knelt by her she still wouldn't avert her gaze.

"Do you feel better?" she asked, knowing the question was foolish, but not knowing what else to say.

Brittany shook her head and continued to stare at the floor before she spoke, "Why does everyone hate me?"

"I don't hate you," Santana said quickly with exasperation, they had already been through this before.

"Then why do you always avoid me whenever you can or flinch when I touch you?"

She didn't want to answer that, "It's not because I hate you."

"Then why?" Brittany's voice cracked and tears sprang to her eyes and Santana was too worn out to fight the pull those eyes had. Her whole body was weary from the effort of keeping her feelings inside, especially when there was constantly something scratching at her, trying to make her loosen her grip on the truths she kept clutched to her chest.

"Because I care about you too much," she sighed, giving up the fight and if her mind hadn't been so worn out and sleep deprived it would have screamed at her for the admission.

Brittany's brow furrowed in confusion, "Santana, I care about you too, but I don't show it by avoiding you."

She made the horrible mistake of looking directly into those blue eyes and they held her there, she was stuck in a deadly trap and the bad part was she didn't even want to get out, "You don't understand. I care more than I should, more than I am allowed to and I think it's better if I'm not so close to you all the time." She continued to spew the truth even though her mind was starting to catch up and began making efforts to try and clamp her mouth shut.

"I don't get it," Brittany said quietly, tilting her head with her eyebrows knit together and Santana couldn't help but smile.

However, she realized that in the silence her body had been moving without permission again and she comprehended in a flash that she was moving to kiss Brittany, the queen of Abrams Castle, in her room, on her bed. She tried to stop, but her traitorous eye moved from Brittany's naturally pink lips to her eyes again and Santana had no choice but to let it happen. And it happened.

It was sudden and for a brief moment Santana felt like she might actually be on fire; then it was broken by a pair of hands pushing her back and she saw confusion and fright staring back at her from those gorgeous blue eyes. That of course was the time her senses returned and her mind screamed at her in the common language and her long forgotten tongue at the same time. It didn't need to do any of that though, the way the queen looked at her let her know what kind of a terrible blunder it was.

Before the blonde could say a word, panic seized Santana and she ran. Out the door, down through winding steps, past Hummel's tents which were already being taken down, and into the forest by the river. She splashed through the water and ran until she burst from the trees, coming to a cliff's edge promptly, putting a stop to her fleeing much to her dismay, because she wanted to keep going until her feet were raw. But she knew it was useless to try to go back to the gate to escape into the city and she couldn't even consider facing Brittany at the moment, so she turned and collapsed panting on the ground, only to realize in dismay that it was the same place the private festivities had been held.

She groaned loudly and fell on her back, looking up at the sky as the sea whispered in her ear. She lay in the dirt and considered briefly what would happen if she just jumped in the ocean and swam, she wondered how far she would get. Not far enough to escape Archibald's wrath once Brittany told him what happened she assumed. Though she doubted Brittany would tell him much of anything for a while, she expected to at least be banished somewhere. If not out of the castle then maybe to the stables or somewhere away from her, and honestly that would be for the best.

The sun shone high in the sky with her lying in the dirt perfectly still, berating herself for being such a fool until her stillness and the soft whisper of the tide made her tired body drift to sleep.

* * *

When her eyes opened again it was dark and she was highly alarmed, though the fact that night had fallen did disturb her, the loud shout that had woken her worried her more. Santana sat bolt upright as she looked around, her eyes adjusting quickly to the moon's faint light. That was when she saw, off a small ways by the trees, a tall figure throwing rocks and branches around like a very angry groundskeeper.

She sat up and was about to run away from this worrisome person when she recognized him. It was Michael. For a moment she thought to leave anyway, but after he threw another rock he leaned against a tree and sank to the ground, weeping loudly. Santana, as always, knew it was none of her concern and to stay out of it, but true to form she didn't follow any of these instincts and moved closer.

"Michael?" she said tentatively as she approached.

His sobs stopped for a moment and when he turned to her she saw the pain in his streaked face, "Santana."

"What happened?"

"The same thing that happens every time our king decides that he is bored of bedding his queen," he growled.

Santana understood right away, "Oh."

He leapt up suddenly with the agility of a cat and threw another stone that cleared the cliff's edge easily before it began to plummet to the sea.

"She is my wife!" he screamed at no one and nothing and Santana let him do it, "She is my beautiful, loving wife not his whore!"

Michael turned and kicked a tree behind him with such force the branches shook and leaves rained down on them. After that outburst he sank back to his previous position his chest heaving with rage and sorrow. Santana didn't know if Michael and Tina felt the same way about everything, but she decided that pity in any form would be of no use.

She sat next to him in silence, looking anywhere but at him, and in doing so noticed many marks and breaks in the trees by the clearing, "This is where you come to let out your anger," she said, already knowing it was true.

"I must do something, if not defend her as a man should, then at least this."

Santana nodded, "I need to find something too, but I'm not as strong as you. If I tried to kick a tree I'd break my foot."

She could see him looking at her from her corner of her eye, "This place _is_ terrible, but what do you need relief from so badly."

There was only so much truth she could dish out in one night, "You don't want to hear my woes right now."

"Oh, I do. Otherwise I will think of my own and destroy more trees."

Santana wondered momentarily if he was the one that created the clearing before she pushed the thought aside and spoke, "Me. I need to get away from myself."

He gave her a searching look, "Why? If you don't mind telling."

The gentleness of his question prompted her to give at least a half answer, "I'm… I'm not normal."

Michael seemed to sense her need for secrecy and nodded, "I don't know how someone like you could be worried about such things, but I can tell you this. Here, normal is taking land from men who have worked their whole lives to keep it fertile, to capture free people and make them slaves in a foreign land, for men to force themselves on women that are not their wives and to beat the ones that are in pointless anger. That, Santana, is normal for this land. So if you find yourself not being that, maybe you should embrace it a bit more instead of trying to run from it."

She couldn't see a flaw in his words, "I suppose."

The night continued to be deathly still and Santana began to wonder what sort of punishment awaited her back at the castle, if not for the kiss, for being gone all day. She also thought maybe Michael wanted to be alone to continue his rampage, but he hadn't asked her to go, nor had he even inquired as to how she had gotten there, so she remained at his side, because it was more comforting than she wanted to admit to not be alone.

"When we first began our travels," Michael said suddenly, capturing Santana's attention immediately, "we went to the desert lands. It was far hotter than anything we were used to and luckily we were young enough to survive the foolish mistake of not bringing enough clothes to protect us from the sun. Eventually we came upon a Mandir, a type of temple, and the monks that resided there were very kind. They gave us food and shelter and shared their vast knowledge with us which we secretly considered to be the most valuable thing they gave us." He chuckled slightly at the memory and paused as he collected his thoughts, Santana waited patiently, "The monks also talked of their faiths and their gods, not that it was surprising, even though we hadn't traveled for very long we had come across many faiths, but this one was interesting. They spoke of the soul, like it was something that was tied to this world, coming and going and collecting good deeds for its final rest. They said that when someone dies they are reborn, maybe right away, maybe many seasons later into another body. The most interesting part to me was that two souls could sometimes find each other in a different life, that somehow they would be drawn together."

Santana frowned at him, "So you believe that now?"

"I would like to. It would be a great comfort to think that once I die I can come back at a different time, a better time, and meet Lihua again. I would be able to fall in love with her again and when I wed her, keep her to myself."

She could easily see the romance in that, but it seemed a flimsy idea since it allowed for them to be reborn at completely different seasons and probably in one not too far removed from the one they were currently in.

"That would be nice." It really would.

"Santana, if I don't regain my freedom and my wife soon, I am going to kill Archibald," he said flatly.

It hadn't been said in hopes of receiving a reply, it was merely informative. Santana would have lectured him on how foolish it was to even think that way, but she didn't. Even though attacking the king, whether successful or not, would end in his death, she secretly hoped he did it.

* * *

To Santana's surprise her return to the castle was completely unremarkable. The moon was bright in the sky and she was able to surmise that it was well past time for the queen to be asleep, meaning she should be in her quarters as well. Not sure whether the time made it permissible for her to walk boldly through the halls or not she snuck trough the shadows to her room and slipped in unnoticed.

When she lay down in the bed she realized that she had slept all day, leaving her wide awake for the rest of the night, awake to revisit Michael's words in her head and try to accept what she clearly was… whatever that was, and to feel the still tingling skin on her lips where she had pressed them against Brittany's. She tried to focus more on Michael, but the morning found her laying on her back, eyes wide open, thinking only of how soft they were and how desperately she wanted to feel them again.

When the sun rose she went into the queen's room to wake her, almost as exhausted as she had been the previous morning, and was surprised to find her already up and in her clothes though the laces in the back weren't tied correctly.

"Morning," Brittany said shyly and her eyes were darting around nervously.

Santana sighed, she had been expecting this, "My queen, I want to apologize for yesterday, it was very wrong of me. It won't happen again," she recited from a deep bow; however, when she stood she could see Brittany was distressed.

"It's alright… you don't have to apologize and you can still call me Brittany," her eyes had settled on Santana finally and she seemed slightly more comfortable.

"I should retie your bodice," she said and then quickly amended, "I promise I won't do anything else."

Brittany shuffled from foot to foot, clearly not knowing what to say, but finally nodded, "Alright."

Santana did exactly as she said she would and didn't run her hands over the smooth skin that was revealed in the unlacing even though she wanted to so badly it made her fingertips ache. While tying them back together she pulled at the strings and was surprised when Brittany doubled over, for a moment she thought she had accidentally caused some new offense, but then she remembered the bruises and felt like she deserved a swift kick for forgetting them.

"Sorry! I forgot!" she cried, trying to help the other woman stand.

"I'm fine, just be gentle," she said stiffly, the pain was still there, but she was pretending it wasn't to be strong in front of Santana and the smaller woman couldn't help but feel that weird warmth flood her chest again.

As she started to tie the laces again, slowly and tenderly as she could, she let her curiosity get the better of her, "I thought you would have called the guards on me."

"Why would I do that?" Brittany asked in genuine confusion.

"Because… of what happened."

"Oh!" and she could see the blush on her cheeks from over Brittany's shoulder. "I wouldn't call them for that, I mean, you surprised me is all…"

"What about afterwards when I was missing?"

She shrugged lightly, "I didn't leave my room anyway and no one came looking for me," she said sadly.

Santana violently fought the urge to hug her and finished her task. When it was complete she stepped away and Brittany smiled that beautiful smile, making the darker woman want to escape to the forest again. "We should go," she said quickly.

She could see Brittany reach for her, see her trying to regain the closeness they'd had before Santana had gone so strange and she could see the disappointment on the queen's face when she was left behind as Santana marched out the door before her.

When they entered the dining hall Santana feared a scene like the one that had occurred the previous morning, but Archibald had actually moved his wife's chair to the space opposite his at the end of their perilously long table that was meant to seat at least a hundred men. It left Archibald, Tina, Matthew and Karofsky at one end and Brittany and Santana at the other. The distance was such that Brittany could talk to Santana without fear of reprisal, at least she could before Archibald noticed her talking to her servant from his position and sent Matthew to keep an eye on her.

He did, but merely warned Brittany to keep her voice low, because he, like Santana, couldn't bear the look on her face when he tried to tell her she still couldn't talk during meals.

When they left the dining hall later, once again Brittany tried to grab Santana's arm and once again she was avoided. It was Santana's new plan and she was determined to see it through, so the whole day progressed that way, the queen trying and Santana denying. Even during her bath contact was sparse and Santana refused to look in the tub even if it meant she missed Brittany's back once or twice when trying to scrub it.

Once she had tucked Brittany into bed and said a formal and distant goodbye, she went to the river to wash her clothing. There were others to do this chore for her, but she found the repetitive work a little calming and she needed that at the moment. Besides, she would be working by a source of ice cold water, so it would be easy to just dunk her whole head into the stream should her thoughts take a wrong turn.

The day had been stressful for her. The only thing worse than having to deny Brittany something was to have to see her face fall afterwards. She didn't know why, but she wanted to give the woman everything she ever wanted and more; a desire only enhanced when Brittany would focus those startlingly blue eyes on her. Suddenly she felt the need to go back to the clearing by the cliffs and try her luck at tree kicking, because she was so mad at herself for falling victim to such undefinable feelings, it wasn't fair that she be afflicted with this strange attraction to women and then become fixated on the one person she could never have.

Her anger at her situation led her to toss her clothes down and wash them with more vigor than was necessary. The anger kept her focused and cleared her head of all else; it also kept her from noticing a presence approach her from behind, not until she felt warm arms around her and smelled a perfume so familiar she could identify it in her sleep. Knowing exactly who it was she scrambled to her feet, almost dropping all of her clothes in the river.

"Bri… er, Your Highness, what are you doing out here?!" she squeaked, because her voice couldn't do stern and surprised quite right.

She looked at Santana with a sad smile, "You weren't in your room, so I asked where you might be and I was told to come here."

"Yes, but…" deciding that it was pointless to discuss that further she said, "I would have come back."

"But I didn't know when and I didn't want to wait."

"For what?"

Brittany stepped closer and Santana stepped back, but her retreat was cut off by the river, Brittany took advantage and moved quickly to capture Santana's face and press her lips to the very surprised smaller woman's. Santana's eyes were wide with shock and her mind went completely blank leaving her body to make all the decisions and, seeing as how it was continually doing whatever it wanted these days, she didn't bother trying to stop.

Santana leaned into the kiss, her hands dancing pointlessly at her sides for a moment before they settled on Brittany's hips and it was then her thoughts were able to return. The first thing in her mind was that she was in the midst of a dream caused by excessive stress, the other was that if this was really happening then she needed to _do_ something. So she did what she had been dreaming of for months and moved her hands to the silky, golden hair and pushed her tongue into Brittany's mouth and kissed her for all she was worth. It was the blonde's turn to be surprised now, but she didn't pull away and when a soft moan resonated in her throat, Santana thought her own legs might give out. They kissed until they needed air, Brittany being the first to pull away, her face flushed and her chest heaving for air. Santana looked at the breathless blonde, her own body screaming for her to do it again, that warmth was back and her skin was burning hot with desire, but she couldn't. Not before she understood what was happening.

"What was that for?" she supposed she should have said it better, but that was all that came to mind.

Santana didn't think it was possible for Brittany's face to go redder, but it did, "I don't really know. What was it for when you did it to me?"

That, she had to admit, was a fair question, "I did it because I feel things for you I know I'm not supposed to."

"You said that before. I don't think I understand fully."

"I want to kiss you, and touch you, and bed you, because you're sweet, kind and beautiful and you have taken over my every thought." It was honesty like she hadn't given another person in her life, she was relieved and terrified to get it all out of her head and into the air.

The redness in the taller woman's face reached the tips of her ears, "I see." They were silent for a moment while soft, brown eyes held shining, blue ones, "Santana, you've been in my mind a lot too, though I can't say I had ever thought about… those other things, but when you kissed me… it surprised me and confused me, but it also made me feel really happy."

"You didn't look happy."

She laughed nervously, "It _really_ surprised me. But after, when you wouldn't even let me touch you it made me so sad and I thought that if something that felt so good was all you wanted for me to be able to be close to you once more, then I wanted to kiss you again as soon as possible."

"But it's dangerous and I shouldn't have," Santana replied thinking of Archibald and suddenly becoming uncomfortably aware of how exposed they were. "You being with me at all is dangerous, especially when you're supposed to be in bed."

The queen shrugged, "Artie knows I wander at night, and I don't think kissing you is any more dangerous than anything else I do. And even if it is, I don't care," she said, frowning a little as she came to her conclusion. "If you are willing to risk so much for me then how can I say no?"

"Easily," Santana shot back, "and you should." Turning, she collected her clothes from the river bed deciding to have someone else clean them after all, "There are enough dangers for us both here."

Brittany knelt next to her, "You are right and I know you are aware of the truth in what you said, but you still want to kiss me, right?"

_And so much more._

When Santana didn't answer, Brittany placed a hand on hers and forced their eyes to meet. Under that gaze the brunette fidgeted, trying to steel herself to tell a bold lie. But it turned out there was no way with those blue eyes boring into hers.

"Yes."

"Then kiss me."

The offer was horribly tempting and, if allowed, Santana would have laid her out on the grass and done just that, but she was still aware of the open area.

"As much as I would love to, I don't think we should do anything here," she said pulling her eyes away from Brittany's and looking over the area.

The queen pouted a little, "You're right, but after the last one I really want to do it again."

Santana picked up her clothes and began to walk back towards the castle with Brittany right behind her, "Are you sure you want such a thing?" she asked, feeling a bit like she was manipulating the other woman.

She felt sure that Brittany was only offering because she wanted to maintain a close relationship, not out of any real, amorous feelings.

"Rest assured if I didn't want to I would tell you," Brittany said with a shy grin.

They walked back to their rooms in a calm silence and when Santana returned Brittany to her room she set her clothes by the door. Immediately she felt nervous as she didn't know what to expect from their parting, but Brittany easily opened her door and crawled into bed.

Santana followed and automatically pulled her covers up, tucking her in as was routine, but before she could leave Brittany grabbed hold of her sleeve.

"May I have another now?" she asked, her cheeks tinged pink and her eyes nervous.

Unable to deny such a request a second time, Santana leaned down and kissed her slowly and with all the emotion that had been locked inside her. It was some time before they broke apart, and they were both just as breathless as they had been at the river. Santana still didn't know exactly what Brittany felt for her, but whatever it was that caused this to happen was something she would accept graciously.

"I should go," Santana said, knowing another kiss like that would lead her to do something quite inappropriate.

"Can I have another in the morning?" the queen asked sheepishly.

"You can have one every morning," she replied before leaving the royal bed chamber and returning to her own, thinking only of soft lips and how they bloomed into the widest smile at her reply.

* * *

A/N: We are moving along, and don't worry the Brittana time will not evaporate next chapter, you'll get your fix XD And I also haven't forgotten about Brittany, you shall hear from her soon.


	9. Chapter 9

In all of Santana's life there were few moments she could recall that had her feeling as anxious as she was that morning standing outside the queen's door. All she had to do was open it and go inside, in fact, in a short time she would have to as there was an assemblage of other slaves who would soon arrive to tend to her other needs. However, Santana was painfully aware that whatever awaited her on the other side would change everything in her life and she wasn't sure which option frightened her more - the idea of Brittany regretting everything from the previous night or her still wanting her morning kiss.

Worse yet, Santana was feeling unsure if she still wanted any of it. Sure, she still felt the same about Brittany as she had before, but now, in the light of day, the dangers of what she had proposed seemed all the more real. She wanted to kiss Brittany very badly, but she also wanted to protect her from what Archibald would do if he found out, in fact it was possible that it was already impossible to keep what had happened hidden.

Knowing she couldn't stand in the royal's hall forever, she braced herself and pushed the door open to find Brittany already awake and sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Good morning," the queen said with a smile.

"Good morning, how long have you been up?" Santana asked before moving to straighten the bed sheets.

"I didn't really sleep much."

With a sigh Santana tried to think of what to say next that wouldn't lead them into a conversation about the previous night that she wasn't ready for, when suddenly she was pulled into a firm embrace and kissed quite soundly.

She groaned inwardly at how easily she fell into the arms around her and how eager she was to deepen the kiss. It seemed to last forever and not long enough and when they parted again Santana felt her head swim as she took a shaky step back.

"Wha-" she stuttered, still unable to think clearly.

"You said I could kiss you again in the morning," she said looking a little worried at Santana's reaction, "Was I supposed to ask first?"

"No, you… I- We shouldn't-" Santana growled in frustration, because all the excellent arguments she had come up with in the night were not coming back to her, but looking at the woman in front of her she decided to stop. To stop trying to run from her, because no matter how fast she fled it seemed that Brittany would always be in her heart and mind. There was nowhere to flee and now, with the beauty in front of her willing to accept the advances it had been almost killing her not to make, she decided she was done trying to stop this. Brittany knew full well what they were risking and she had still waited up all night, eagerly awaiting her kiss.

Leaning closer, she held Brittany's cheek in her hand, looking deep into her eyes to be sure the other woman understood, "Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked quietly.

"Are you?" the queen replied with equal seriousness and Santana understood that the question held just as much weight for her.

"I am."

Brittany smiled and leaned forward slowly, closing the distance between them, "Then so am I."

With that their lips met again, but this time it was slower and much more tender, making Santana's heart beat in an odd, fluttery pattern. She was still aware that there were others who were to enter at some point and she was very afraid of being found out, but when Brittany lay back and pulled her on top of her nothing seemed to matter.

Until there was a sharp knock at the door and Santana almost fell over herself trying to back away. For her part, Brittany seemed unconcerned by the knock, but completely flushed from the kiss. She sat up and looked at Santana as if she were considering not answering the door at all and resuming their previous actions.

Licking her lips slowly, she took a deep breath before calling out, "Enter."

Soon the rest of the queen's servants filed in and began to work on her hair and pick out her clothes since nothing had been laid out yet, not one of them concerning themselves with her rapid breathing or heavy stares to Santana.

While the others worked, Santana did her part every now and then in silence, hoping beyond hope once they made it out into the hall that Brittany would have learned discretion with the stares she gave. Once the queen was dressed, they exited into the main hallway and waited for Archibald who came right on time as usual with his entourage in tow.

Brittany fell right in line with her normal routine, doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. They walked into the dining hall and parted ways with the king so she could take her place at the opposite end and Santana followed.

Once the food had been placed in front of her, the queen ate quietly, though she did play with her bread a little making Santana unwillingly smile. The king finished first and then swept from the hall with all the self-importance he could exude, leaving the two of them alone together.

At first the hall was merely silent, but soon enough the queen finished her food and stood to leave in a much more calm fashion than her husband. Santana followed once more, feeling a little confused; she had expected that once they were alone she would have been ravished if the looks the queen sent her before were to be believed. But the woman had finished her entire meal as though Santana wasn't even in the room, and then the reason occurred to her… or more like the reason came flooding into the room as they left.

The kitchen staff was always watching and waiting silently to begin to clean, and this was true for most places in the castle where the royals spent any considerable amount of time. Santana was a little surprised at herself for forgetting that fact and was even more surprised that Brittany had remembered.

Usually Archibald went for a ride with Brittany on mornings like this, but ever since he had become king they hadn't. So in the cool, clear light of day they went to the gardens, the queen's arms wrapped around hers as was usual when they were alone. The blonde hadn't lost her love of closeness in lieu of their new arrangement.

Once they arrived, the queen politely asked for her blanket, which she used to take long naps in the sun or to sit on when her dress was in danger of being ruined from sitting in the grass. Santana fetched it, but was a little confused since it hadn't rained recently, her dress was a dark blue so not in danger of damage, and she had just woken, so a nap seemed unnecessary. In addition to that oddness, she wanted to sleep on the far side of the large tree that grew there, however, that side was directly exposed to sunlight.

Santana did as she was asked, thinking maybe she was cold since the air had been getting much cooler as winter approached and since she had gotten little sleep her morning meal may have made her lethargic. She thought all this while spreading the sheet out and thinking nervously of all the windows in the castle that looked out over the area they were in now. The dining hall had made her more wary than ever, so when Brittany finally lay out on the blanket and bid Santana to join her, the smaller woman only stood there.

Brittany smiled up at her, "Come here, please?" she asked, her arms open.

After a little debate Santana came to the conclusion that it wasn't out of the ordinary for Brittany to hold her, and quite frankly she wanted to be held. Besides that the other woman had recently shown that she knew the danger they were in and the meaning of discretion.

A small nod preceded Santana lowering herself to Brittany's side, and when she lay down she was completely shocked to feel those soft lips meeting her own. Swiftly she pushed the blonde away, feeling white hot terror rush through her has she looked around franticly for an audience that wasn't there.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, almost panting with fear.

Brittany gave a small frown, "Kissing you."

"We could be seen!" Santana whispered fiercely.

"Not here, there are no windows that overlook this spot and I would hear anyone approach."

"Yes, there a-" but she stopped, realizing for the first time that from the opposite side of the large tree she could see no windows, only tall stone walls meant to shield the castle from the cold ocean winds. The closest she knew to separate them from the stables and the other side of the one on the far left was rocks and little else, the wall before them gave way to a sheer drop and was purposefully impossible to scale.

To make sure, Santana scrambled up and looked around the tree to note that only when she moved from behind it could she see the three windows that overlooked the gardens. Satisfied, she returned to her previous position and happily returned the kiss she had been given, making Brittany giggle at her enthusiasm.

Santana kissed her for all she was worth and did it again and again until her head got that familiar floating feeling, only stopping when she absolutely had to have air. It was a difficult task to kiss the queen so soundly and keep her hands from wandering, though she wanted to touch every part of her Santana felt lucky that she were allowed to be even that intimate and didn't want to scare her by going too far too soon.

Those were her rules and she focused on them wholeheartedly, fighting the war within over the desire not to ruin everything and the throbbing need to put her lips over every inch of Brittany. Her rules stayed in the front of her mind, meaning she was at a loss when Brittany broke them. A slim hand pushed in-between the buttons of her shirt making Santana gasp and shudder in pleasure, her disappointment when the hand was swiftly removed was immense.

"I didn't mean to," Brittany said, looking very worried and apologetic, "Sorry, my hand just moved on its own." She sat up quickly, folding her arms and tucking her hands in.

"Don't be," Santana said, letting out a long breath to slow her heart, "I didn't mind."

Brittany smiled shyly, "Your lips make me forget myself."

And as they were supposed to at the very least be listening for others approaching, Santana decided that a break was in order. Sitting up as well she guided one of Brittany's hands into her own, holding it gently to let her know her touch was not unwanted.

"And yours have a very similar effect on me," Santana said lightly.

A light laugh escaped her, "Maybe, but I think you may be at an advantage, the last person who gave me a kiss of any meaning was my mother before she left me here, and of course that wasn't the same."

Santana was taken aback by that; Brittany had just shared something very private with ease, or it had been by her own personal standards. For Santana, talking of past hurts wasn't something she would do so easily and Brittany's parents leaving her with Archibald, that had to be one.

There was silence as Brittany coaxed Santana into lying down with her again, this time keeping her close so she could lie on her back and hold Santana's hand between her own, tracking the patterns in her palm as the sun shone down.

Looking over, Santana saw the soft smile on her face as her fingers danced over the lines, tracing every one as if memorizing it.

"How do you do that?" Santana asked, unable to keep the question in any longer.

Brittany turned to her, smiling, "Do what?"

"That," she said, giving the blonde a meaningful look, "how do you keep smiling when things here are…"

"Oh," Brittany said, her smile dampening a little, "It's not easy, but as a knight it is something I must do."

Santana tried not to frown, but it happened anyway, "You're a knight?" she asked; maybe in her homeland children were made knights.

"Not officially, but I'm my own knight. I have to be, because no one else will save me. And that's what knights do, they protect people and save damsels in need of rescue. For a long time I was really sad, because no one would come for me, and then I realized that if no one would, I would have to do it myself."

"What does it mean? For you to be a knight?"

"I have to make myself happy and stay that way, even if I'm really sad. And I have to laugh at least once a day, not a fake laugh either, a real one."

"How did you come up with that?" Santana asked, genuinely wanting to know. She had lived through tragic circumstances, but all she could think to do was to forget everything and hate everyone.

"When I was first left here I was really sad all the time, I missed my family and Artie wasn't as mean as he is now, but he wasn't exactly nice either. I had already sent word to my parents, but my mother only sent back letters telling me about how things were at home, it was like she didn't care. I tried to tell the king and queen, but as kind as they were they didn't send me home and they wouldn't discipline Artie. I would cry a lot, whenever I was lonely or when Artie teased me, but when it was my wedding day I realized that those feelings weren't going to go away. It was the start of the rest of my life and it looked miserable. So I decided on the spot that if everyone was going to ignore me then I would just become a knight and make sure I was happy."

Santana felt a sense of awe for the woman at her side, it was no small feat to keep a smile on through everything that happened to her.

"That is an admirable thing to do."

Brittany gave a small shrug, "It has its failings. Like sometimes I forget that I don't really live in a place where people want me around and offer my opinion where it isn't wanted, or sometimes I greet servants too politely and it gets me strange looks. Not just from Artie, but from everyone. It also means that sometimes I forget how cruel this place is," she said sadly, looking to Santana, "it makes me forget that people are beaten for no reason at all."

The brunette suddenly realized Brittany was referring to when she had discovered that Santana had been receiving brutal lashings for her mistakes, "Don't worry yourself over that," Santana said quietly, but Brittany shook her head.

"I should have known, Matthew and Tina swore you were fine, but why would anything to do with him end well for a servant? I just forgot, because Jean had been with me for so many years and Artie always thought she was too damaged in the head to understand pain. She wasn't, but it was best to let him think that."

"I haven't had a lashing in ages, so everything's fine. Besides, it's really wonderful that you found a way to stay happy."

Her smile dimmed a little more, "That's another failing, it doesn't always work. Sometimes I get really sad or lonely… but you know that," she said quietly.

"Sometimes it's good to feel those things, pretending nothing hurts can be just as bad letting everything upset you. I would know, I pretended nothing hurt, I let things happen to me and acted as if it didn't matter, but it did. Disregarding my own feelings made me throw away a lot of myself," Santana said sadly, unwilling to go into the specifics of her past.

Brittany clasped her hand and brought it to her chest, "I think there's lots left to admire."

"Maybe, but I miss who I used to be and feel a great sense of loss for who I could have become," she admitted for the first time to anyone, including herself.

"If you could be anything what would you be?" Brittany asked suddenly and Santana was taken aback by the question.

"Free?"

She waved a hand, "Given, so you're free, what would you be?"

"A healer."

The blonde gave her an inquisitive glance, "Why?"

"My parents were," she answered simply, feeling a little tense that the conversation was moving so close to how her life was before.

However, the other woman pried no further, "Okay, where would you be a healer?"

Santana snorted, "Does it matter?"

"Does it to you?"

Giving the queen an exasperated look, she sighed, "In the Far South, maybe it's my heritage, but I prefer the warm weather and it's far from this kingdom."

"Where would you have your hospice?"

"In a large town," she answered, having given up trying to understand the line of questioning.

"Would you help anyone or only the people in town."

"Everyone."

"Even servants?"

"Of course," Santana answered incredulously.

"Just asking," she said soothingly before planting a kiss on Santana's temple, calming the glower that was on her face. "Would… would you marry?" her voice dropped to the timid octave she used when unsure.

"I don't know much about the Far South, but if they wed women to each other then I might."

Brittany grinned, "Really, women only?"

She shook her head, fixing her eyes on their entwined hands, "What I feel for men doesn't compare."

"So what kind of woman do you marry?"

"I-" she paused, suddenly feeling uncomfortable answering, "I don't know, whoever will have me I suppose."

Brittany frowned, "That won't do. You're free in a new land with healer's training and a new hospice, your wife can't be '_whoever will have you'_."

"I guess someone like Sam, a boy I used to know in the vineyard where I was raised," she answered evasively. They had only been intimate one day and she just wasn't ready to confess to wanting to wed the woman, even though the moment Brittany had asked the question the queen had been the only person she pictured.

"So a woman that's like a boy?"

"No, a woman that's like a woman, but acts like Sam. He was nice."

"It seems to me as though you are finding another way of saying whoever will have you," she said, eyeing Santana suspiciously, making the smaller woman squirm.

"So what if I am, I haven't thought about this kind of thing much," she bristled, but then Brittany kissed her again and her calm returned.

"So this other Santana who has all these things you don't, how is she better than you?"

She had to fight not to laugh aloud, "In every way, she has everything I don't."

"No, I mean how is she a better person. What is she that you're not," she said before pointing to Santana's heart, "on the inside."

The smaller woman stared disbelievingly at how perceptive this seemingly simple woman was, but being who she was Santana was unwilling to concede that easily, "She would still have her dignity, because she wasn't passed around like a rag as a child, and she would have her parents and a trade she was good at. She would remember the language of her ancestors, because she would have had no call to forget and she would remember-" Santana stopped, because her words bordered on too much honesty, there were things even she didn't want to face.

"It sounds like she's had an easier life, but you haven't told me how she's a better person," Brittany said softly. When Santana averted her gaze the other woman held their hands up again, interlocked they made a patter of light brown and pale white that seemed to interest the queen.

"I would be a toy maker. I would travel like Kurt and give my toys to any who wanted them. I wouldn't charge, so I'd have to live off the land, but I don't like to kill animals so I'd have to be good at cooking the plants I find in my travels. I don't think I would marry unless it was someone who I loved very much, but even they'd have to want it. I don't think marriage is necessary; I can happily just be with them without it. That Brittany would always be happy, she wouldn't need a knight, and she'd remember her parents' faces and the language of her people, too. And no one would ever hit her, because who hits a toymaker who gives away toys?" she laughed.

_Archibald._ Santana thought bitterly before another thought hit her, "You spoke a different tongue before you came here?"

She nodded, "I don't recall it at all now, Artie would scream at me every time he couldn't understand my words."

"How did you ever learn to speak?"

"Matthew."

Santana frowned, "I don't understand him, how can he be so kind yet protect that… _man_," she spat, not at all agreeing with her own word choice.

"He's always treated Matthew with more kindness than anyone else, it's because they have grown into adulthood together or because Artie knows Matthew is where his true strength lies."

"His respect has a limit, if the other day proved anything."

"It does, yet for all his threats to have him beaten or sent away he never has. Artie cares for Matthew as much as someone with that much anger in them can," she said with a sigh, turning their hands over.

"And what has made him so angry?"

"Me, in great part. His parents always allowed him everything, but suddenly he was forced to be my husband, though he detested me, and was furthermore made to make haste in creating an heir. And when it failed and he began to strike me they made him stop several times, but he would always start again. When he kept his markings where no one could see them his parents were content to ignore it." Turning their hands over again she sighed sadly, "He is a spoiled child and I am the thing keeping him from having the freedom he wants."

Santana had a hard time thinking of Archibald's desire as true freedom, what he wanted was to be a tyrant. And with his parents gone it seemed like there wasn't truly anything keeping him from what he wanted. Unfortunately, he was slowly starting to realize that.

* * *

After their talk, Santana stayed hidden in that magical space behind the large tree, kissing Brittany for quite some time, and would have been content to live out her days under its branches. But once the sun was high above them it was time to take her to court to sit with the king.

During the reprieve, Tina left to find Michael as she usually did and Santana left to go to the stream and stick her head in the water, because spending all morning with her lips on Brittany's had made her whole body hot in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.

As she wiped the water out of her eyes she sat back at the bank of the river. She still wasn't completely sure of what Brittany felt for her, but she found she was able to identify more clearly what she felt for the blonde. It was like love, but not. Love didn't seem to be a strong enough word for how the woman could make her want to risk everything to be with her. She could easily say she loved Sam, but it wasn't even close to the same thing. She had always considered herself fairly well learned, having been so studious as a child and on account of Sam showing her things and explaining words, but now she felt the fool, because she couldn't think of the right name for what was stirring within her.

However, she didn't let it worry her; as far as she knew there wasn't even a name for her attraction to Brittany, let alone any developing thoughts from that.

There, sitting in the sun, for the first time in a very long time, she did not think of how dire her situation was or of how to escape her current predicament. She didn't think of soft lips or panic because she was; there was no turmoil within her as she stared at the rushing water.

The only thing she thought of as she observed the reflective surface was a healer helping a beautiful, blonde woman who made toys.

* * *

A/N: So real talk time I guess.

The common question is: Why is Artie _such_ an asshole? Well Brittany explained the bulk of it, but what must be remembered is this story takes place in a time period where as king you could pretty much to whatever to whomever. Granted the history is fictional but for the most part I'm working off how things were in ye olden days. Now why specifically have Artie be this way? Here is my reasoning. (please keep in mind Glee writing is such that all characters nature is subject to debate. This is just how I see it)

Canon Artie is a bit of a jerk, and I don't just mean him calling Brittany stupid, I mean his entire attitude towards women going back as far as Tina and even his flippant-supposed-to-be-funny hint that he could still perform sexually. He tends to be very sensitive to things that concern him and his handicap, but can be surprisingly insensitive about others issues. He seems to prefer telling others to care rather than do it himself (Becky is an obvious example).

That said I take into account these actions paired with the fact that he is in a wheelchair. The experience seems to have humbled him a bit and opened his eyes to things that he otherwise wouldn't have had to face, however through all that he can still be so very callous. Now I'm not saying that is unrealistic at all, but what I took from that was if removed from his handicap, placed under two doting parents who gave him no restrictions in a time period that was mostly patriarchal in nature, this man would be a possible result.

Not saying it's fact, merely an interpretation and a look into why I picked him as opposed to say Finn or Puck, who if given the same background could become something similar. However it would be a stretch, to me, to have them reach the same extreme since at their core they are very different people. For instance I think Finn would be quite chauvinistic and overbearing to his queen, but easily swayed by Matthew which would hold him back form reaching Archibald's level. And Puck would be all over the place, more like an uncontrollable party animal and playboy, if he didn't like Brittany then he wouldn't deal with her at all. Neither would be as reckless with war negotiations, I think both would know to leave it to Matthew to tell them how to proceed and take his advice far more easily.

But that's just how I see it.


	10. Chapter 10

Santana grumbled angrily as her foot squelched into something she could only hope was mud; once again she was the only person on foot during a mounted hunting party. Ahead of her were Matthew and Archibald, both men looking alertly for movement, and Brittany who was looking out over the wide field to the people gathered a short distance away. It was the king's decision to take his wife out with him on another hunting trip, because he needed the very audience he now had.

Word had gotten back to their illustrious ruler that the people of his kingdom, already riled by news of the poor negotiations with the other territories, began rumors about his manhood. As Archibald still had no heir and had made no recent attempts to make one, at least with his own wife, word began to spread that he was somehow less of a man. Santana thought he was less than human, but it had nothing to do with his negotiations nor his lack of an heir, she really didn't understand why the nobles and villagers alike put so much stock in a man's ability to have children. However, if it put the king in a poor mood it was alright with her, or at least it would have been if he hadn't decided that a spectacle of a hunting excursion would solidify his masculinity. The worst part was, given how his citizens were, it would probably work.

Matthew had seen to it that even more game than usual was running or flying around and so far Archibald had killed three foxes, a boar, and a fawn that Santana was pretty sure had just been too sick to flee.

Brittany merely stared off into the distance rather than watch the king trade animal's lives for stature. Santana's mood was foul, because she knew how much it hurt the other woman to watch animals be killed and this was especially upsetting since the king didn't even keep the animals he shot. Instead he left them where they fell and moved on to the next, ready to awe anyone who would watch, and by now it was quite a crowd. Working men and nobles alike gathered at the edge of the field to watch their king's skill with a bow, the nobles watched from palanquins and even though the commoners were ankle deep in mud he had their attention nonetheless.

He played the perfect husband as they rode through the tall grass, he told long tales and even deferred on shooting creatures if the queen seemed too upset.

She had been quite upset about the fawn.

Archibald said his hand slipped.

They walked for a while longer, the king merely making wide sweeps that would bring them closer to his subjects so they could see his grandeur up close, before another boar came tearing out of the clearing.

With undeniable skill he notched an arrow and let it fly, hitting the creature dead in the eye, it fell almost instantly and a round of cheers came from those watching. Santana had to contain a sneer with all her might.

The noise caused the king's already nervous mount to buck slightly, but he held on. The animal was actually the solid stallion that the king sovereign had used, after his departure Archibald had felt it his right to ride it. Of course Brittany was left with the same mare; he had taken special care to explain how she wasn't good enough to ride his mother's mount even though she had never asked to. The change hadn't exactly been wise in Santana's opinion as his father's horse seemed to be about as fond of the man as she was. It was jittery and less than responsive, but once sharp spurs were kicked into him he'd move the same as any other.

The boar killed, they pressed on, moving back to the other side of the field and Santana could only sigh as she stepped over the dead animal, its life and meat wasted. The further they traveled from the watching crowd the less polite Archibald was to those in his company, though Brittany seemed not to notice or didn't care if she had.

"You could at least pretend to be interested," the king growled as he looked over the area before him.

"In what?" she asked, having clearly been pulled from some deep internal thought.

"In my hunting, you stupid cow! What do you think we're doing out here?" he hissed at her.

"Oh, I am interested, do I not show it well?" she asked, her face genuine, but Santana had learned what true sincerity looked like from her while hidden behind a large tree and that was not it.

"Imbecile," he snorted before scanning the horizon again, "Matthew, are you sure there is enough game out today?"

"I am only sure that I released the requested amount, majesty, where they have gone to since I do not know. Maybe if we returned to fetch the hounds-"

"No! What's the point of this if I use animals to do my hunting for me?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows in a gesture that Santana had come to take as him trying to decided if the topic was really worth arguing about.

"Sire, some of the kingdom's greatest hunters use hounds."

"And I am twice the hunter they are, I don't need a beast to corner another for me, I am capable of doing this alone."

"Hmmm," Brittany hummed.

"What?" the king asked, looking insulted though she had yet to speak.

"Nothing," she said simply.

"Say whatever foolish thing you were going to say before I beat it out of you," he snapped.

"Sire…" Matthew said warningly looking obviously at their audience.

Noticing them again, the king straightened himself in his saddle, "Who cares what you think anyway," he grumbled before riding ahead.

Santana had to grind her teeth together to keep from speaking out and Brittany seemed to notice as she sent a comforting smile to the smaller woman. Grudgingly, she relaxed a little and continued to follow their leader in wide, sweeping circles.

After a while even the commoners seemed to be bored of watching them go in circles, though a decent crowd remained, and not long after that even Archibald bored of his display.

"I don't think there is anything here," he said resignedly.

"Maybe next time we should enclose the area?" Matthew suggested.

"Possibl- Wait!" the king said, his voice dropping to an excited whisper as he notched another arrow.

Santana looked ahead to try and see what he saw, but the only thing she could detect was slight movement, a rustling of the tall grass that could have been an animal or, just as easily, the wind. Brittany looked too and just before her husband shot his arrow she reached out and yanked his arm.

The arrow sailed still hitting the targeted area but missing the killing blow as the creature screamed. Santana had been wondering what had possessed Brittany to do something so reckless, because surely a fox wasn't worth making Archibald _that_ angry, but she had her answer when she heard the scream. It was human - a child.

A small, dirty boy with a bleeding earlobe came running out of the grass holding one of the boars the king had already killed; the beast was relatively small but still too large for the boy to handle without great effort. The king seemed undecided on who he was more furious with, the boy or his queen, but when those watching began to cheer for his wife, he focused on her.

"Are you _trying_ to dishonor me!"

Brittany frowned, "It was a boy, Artie."

"An _orphan_ boy! No one would have missed him," the prince grumbled, even though it seemed that for once even he saw how foolish his statement was.

"Majesty, I think it prudent to not shoot children on your excursion, killing the boy would be much more damaging to your image than the queen's interference," Matthew said, trying not to look disgusted at the king's statement. "Furthermore, he wasn't an orphan."

Santana followed Matthew's glance to see the boy clear the fence on the far side and run into the arms of a woman who was bawling and yelling at him for his recklessness.

Archibald watched with dark eyes, "I should throw them both in the dungeon for interrupting my hunt."

"Majesty…" Matthew repeated in that familiar warning tone of his.

"Yes, I know, image," he spat, kicking his heels deep into his mount's sides, causing it to buck slightly and begin to walk, "I need another kill to wipe this failure out of their minds."

Brittany sighed and turned her mare to follow, "Artie I think all the animals are really gone-"

It was clear that his public embarrassment had made his short temper even shorter, "Open your stupid mouth again on this hunt and I will slap you right off your horse and trample you with my own!" he barked at her, his temper flaring hotter with every word.

And unbeknownst to him so did Santana's as she scooped up a small rock in her hands.

"Do not think that an audience gives you license to speak! You forget that I could lay you out right here and not a single man out there would think less of me for it!"

As he finished he reached for her, he may have been about to strike her or he may have only been feigning, Santana didn't wait to find out. She threw the rock that had been clenched in her hand as hard as she could hoping to hit Archibald square in the head. However, having never been any sort of marksman, she missed and instead hit the flank of the stallion that was already nervous from the yelling.

The moment it was struck it bucked magnificently, sending an unaware Archibald tumbling into the sky and before he could reconnect with the ground the beast bucked again, planting both hooves in the king's chest and sending him sailing clean across the field. He landed in an unceremonious heap to the uproarious laughter of the remaining crowd.

Matthew flew after him and Brittany trailed at a more moderate pace with Santana right behind her. When they arrived Matthew had gotten Archibald upright, but it was clear he was having a hard time breathing, his face was twisted in pain as he sporadically gulped for air and Santana had to fight not to smirk in satisfaction.

"Something's broken," Matthew informed them, "Actually, I believe a lot of things are." He tried to lift the king to stand, but the man gave a garbled scream of pain. "Santana, go to the healer's tent and tell them the king needs treatment, now!"

"No'm'f'n," came from the king though only Matthew seemed to have understood.

"Sire, I don't think you should move-"

But to no one's surprise he didn't heed his council and stood on shaky legs, he glared at all of them in turn and for a moment Santana thought he might have seen what she had done, but instead his gaze fixed on the stallion now grazing peacefully in the distance.

"Have the beast killed," he wheezed, his words sounded like they were spoken by a winded infant, but this time everyone understood.

"I don't think your father would approve of his prized mount being executed in his absence," Matthew said quietly.

For the first time something Matthew said seemed to sink in and he took a shaky step towards Brittany, "Then have it whipped or something." Feebly he walked to the queen's horse and slumped against it, pulling weakly at her dress, "Get off."

She complied and he attempted to climb on, but found it impossible. Seeing his distress Matthew moved to help him on, it was a slow, difficult process that caused him to cry out several times and Santana relished the sound.

Then, though it was obviously causing him great pain, the wounded man planted his heels in the animal and rode off, Matthew bidding the queen stay put until he could return with her horse, and followed after Archibald.

Brittany watched them go and sighed, "You shouldn't have done that," she said, though her tone suggested laughter was behind her words.

Santana was taken aback, since the area was clearing and no one was calling for her head she had assumed no one had seen her, "He deserved it."

"Did he? I don't think so, he's worked so hard all day."

She frowned heavily until understanding hit her, Brittany was referring to the horse, "You're right, he didn't. I'll give him a carrot to make it up," she chuckled.

Taking her arm easily, the queen began to walk back towards the castle in the distance, "Come on, we should go."

"But Matthew said-"

"I don't think Artie is going to give him time to send anyone for me. We can just walk."

Santana would have objected, but the idea of walking arm in arm with her queen was too tempting to pass on. So together they walked through the field and into the woods where only the sounds of nature met their ears.

For the longest she was torn between wanting to enjoy their pleasant walk and the need to pull the blonde behind a tree and taste her lips again. She had almost found the perfect tree when she heard Brittany speak.

"You can't do that again, you know."

"Hurt the king sovereign's horse?"

"Hurt Artie."

Santana's face went into an immediate glower, "Is it offensive to you?"

"It's scary, because if he saw that it was you he would have killed you," she said quietly, "Your life isn't worth that."

"Yours is," Santana replied softly.

"He won't kill me, my life is what keeps the land his father fights on," she said with a shrug.

"Maybe he won't strike with that intent but-"

"Santana, please, for me, don't interfere again," Brittany said and she found it would have been easier to take if the queen were merely disregarding her help, instead it was clear that the other woman wanted to keep her safe and it hurt. It hurt to watch someone she loved so carry so much and refuse even the slightest aid lest her rescuers be punished.

With a sad sigh she turned away from pleading, blue eyes, "I won't."

"Thank you," Brittany replied brightly, planting a kiss on Santana's neck that cheered her considerably.

Forced to smile again, she returned the kiss before saying, "You really are a knight."

She nodded, "My first duty is to make sure you're as safe and happy as can be managed."

"I thought it was to make sure _you_ were happy," Santana laughed.

"As it so happens it's the same thing."

* * *

Upon their return they found the castle to be in a complete uproar over the king's injuries, most of the castle going over rumors of how it happened while others scrambled to collect items the king requested for his comfort.

Brittany watched the entire thing in amusement before yawning, "I want to retire early."

Santana nodded, feeling a sense of dread. If the queen wanted to sleep that meant it was time for her bath and that had become something of an ordeal as of late. She still didn't want to push the queen too far in too short a time, but watching the woman bathe was a sure way to make her want to stop fretting over the issue.

Reluctantly, she informed a few of the scurrying servants to ready the queen's bath and together they made their way to the room Santana now dreaded more than anything other than Karofsky's shack.

When the water was drawn and Brittany had been freed of her clothing, Santana sat on the stool provided, facing the far wall, hoping that maybe _this_ time Brittany would forget her back needed washing. Of course she didn't and Santana had to, once again, figure out how to look without looking. There was no way of course, but she attempted it every time and marveled at herself. It seemed that even though she had seen the queen in less than nothing countless times, ever since their lips touched it became infinitely harder not to become completely wanton when she caught a glimpse of her nude form. Something that meant she spent the entirety of the bath red in the face with her mind going freely where it ought not.

"You don't have to be so fearful of looking at me," Brittany giggled.

"I'm not fearful, I just…"

"Just?"

"Don't need to think the way I do when I look at you in that state of undress," Santana replied, her voice barely above a whisper

A curious look crossed Brittany's features, "What is it that you think of?"

Santana knew her face was a deep red, because she could feel the heat pouring off it, "Uh- I…" she trailed off, not knowing how to voice everything that was filling her head at the moment.

"Tell me," she said, her blue eyes earnest and curious.

"I think of… us together… a great deal…" even that small, vague confession made her face twice as hot.

"I think I'm not understanding your meaning again, because I think of it too, and we _are_ together most times-"

"Together like in an intimate way, like a man and woman would be."

Brittany considered her words and slowly her brow furrowed in thought, "I didn't know that was possible. Though I can confess to thinking of touching you everywhere I can," she said with a small smile, "It seems a little unfair that you always see me in such a state, but I have never seen you."

Santana squirmed in her seat, she wasn't sure which conversation made her more uncomfortable, "It is possible," she replied, opting to stick to the previous narrative as the idea of showing her scar covered form unnerved her a bit, "for women to be with each other that way."

Swirling the water slightly, Brittany looked up at her through long lashes, "That's something you enjoy?"

Taken by surprise Santana blinked, "Um, I'm pretty sure I would. In all honesty, I have never tried with someone of my sex," she said, suddenly wildly unsure of herself.

"Do you think I would as well?" the queen asked.

"I hope so," Santana said giving a nervous laugh; honestly, she had no idea. She was worse than a novice in the art of pleasuring women, because the most instruction she'd had on it was what she glimpsed through the dark of a tent one night.

"Will you show me?" Brittany asked, her voice shy but her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Santana.

"N-now?" she stuttered, feeling a cold sweat break out. She knew she wanted to, or to at least try, but she also knew that with her heart pounding and her hands shaking she wasn't going to please anyone.

"If you'd like," the blonde said quietly.

"Not here," she croaked, with a wince she cleared her throat and tried again, "Not now."

Brittany searched her eyes, and whatever she saw there made her relent, "Alright."

Santana helped her queen from the tub to dry off and brought her to bed though it was earlier than usual. Her head was full of thoughts of when would be the right time to move forward with Brittany when she almost crashed into the woman. Confused, she looked ahead to see Matthew standing in front of the queen's door looking rather tired.

"My apologies for intercepting you this way, but I must ask you to come with me, highness," he said, bowing deeply.

Santana frowned, "Why?"

The question made Matthew give her a warning look, but Brittany waved it away, "Why?" she asked herself.

"The king would like an audience."

For a quick moment Santana feared he may have discovered that she had indeed thrown the rock, but then realized if that were the case he would hardly be inclined to discuss the issue with Brittany. But knowing him he couldn't possibly want to simply talk, and he had the best healers in the land already looking after his injuries. Thought she was sure his wounds would keep him from hitting his wife… or anything else.

She felt a brief comfort in recalling the man couldn't even breathe comfortably, when a sudden, icy fear blossomed in her stomach that for some reason Archibald had chosen this as the night to attempt to make an heir.

It was an irrational thought, at least she was partially sure it was, and she kept running his tumble over and over in her mind to prove that he would have to be too wounded to do anything of the sort.

Brittany turned to her and gave a reassuring smile, "If I don't return before dark, sleep without me, I will tuck myself in."

Santana watched her leave with Matthew, her feet stuck to the floor, she feared for Brittany and her own sanity. How could she possibly sleep with her love trapped somewhere with one of the most wicked men she had ever met?

Not knowing what to do with herself she paced for a moment before she took off for the armory, somehow believing that if there was one person that could help her figure out what to do it would be Puck. Even as she scrambled through the winding hallways she remembered Brittany telling her to do nothing, but how could she be expected to abide by that? It was with great relief and desperation that she found Puck putting away his tools for the night alone in a place that smelled of metal, stone and sweat.

"Puck, I need your help!" she exclaimed, running towards him.

He seemed startled by her sudden arrival, but quickly got over it while pulling off his shirt, "Trip to the caravan didn't help ya long, did it?" he asked.

Seeing where he was going she rushed to him and pulled his shirt back down, "No! Not that," she hissed, looking to see if they were being overheard, but they were quite alone.

"Oh, good… for you I mean, I didn't mind be'n used," he chuckled.

"Brittany's alone with the king right now."

He only frowned at her, "And?"

"And he might be up there hurting her or… or worse," she said, trying not to picture worse in her head.

Puck nodded and thought hard for a moment, "Ah! I know just the thing to help with that," he said enthusiastically.

He walked off brusquely and Santana followed, wondering where he was taking her. When they moved away from the castle her curiosity grew and when they approached the kitchens she began to wonder if maybe they were seeking Michael out. Instead of going all the way inside, Puck led her down a narrow stairwell at the back that opened into a small, poorly lit room that reeked of men and ale with an undertone of vomit.

Confused, she looked to him, but Puck was already heading to the far side where there was a table full of mugs. The toned man scooped up an armful and jerked his head in a motion meant to beckon her. She approached, trying to see the sense in what he was doing and wondering why she had never known of this place before… whatever it was.

"Sit," he offered, showing her a worn stool by a clear table.

Santana sat gingerly, still watching him as he deposited the mugs on the table and split them up between them. Frowning, the woman looked around to find, to her utter surprise, that they were not at all alone; to her right, hunched in a dark corner and looking for all the world like a boulder, sat Beiste.

The large woman had a tankard in her massive hand and when her eyes met Santana's she lifted it in greeting. Santana waved back weakly before turning to Puck.

"How is any of this supposed to help me?"

He pushed one of the mugs to her hands, "Drink."

She stared at the liquid in the container and sniffed at it, the smell was quite foul even for strong drink, "What is this?"

"All the stuff the soldiers n' the royals don't drink after meals. We keep it all, but don't got time to sort it out so it's all mixed together. Mead, ale, wine and any other strong drink we k'n find."

"Unless you are telling me to throw this at _that_ man I fail to see what this is supposed to do."

Puck took a hearty swig before he answered, his face contorting at the taste, "Drink it and you'll forget your woes."

Pushing the mug aside she stood abruptly, "I don't want to get drunk, I want to keep the queen from being beaten!" she whispered fiercely at him.

He shot her a sad smile, "Lots of us been wanting that for a long time."

"I'm right widyou," grumbled Beiste from her seat, her wording made it clear the tankard she held wasn't her first.

"Listen love, we all know it's a cruel hand she's been given, but there's really nothing you can do."

"But- he's…" she pleaded, wishing he'd understand.

"Drink," he advised again.

Santana flopped back down and took a deep gulp of the foul smelling liquid to find it really did help as it burned everything it touched, making her wheeze and cough rather than think.

"Heard the king tooka spill today," Beiste said with a chuckle before taking another swig.

Santana could only nod through coughs and thick tears from the burn.

"Wish I'd seen that," Puck said wistfully.

The large woman nodded, "Same, deserves to know what izlike."

"Don't fret, I'm sure he ain't in a hittin' mood, probably up there makin' another attempt at putting a baby in her so the whole kingdom'll stop laughin' at him."

The icy feeling turned to a combination of blinding fury and overwhelming fear, "Not with the wounds he has," she said in a sure voice, because she needed to believe herself.

"M'sure the healers fixed him right up," Puck said trying to be cheerful about it as if it was making her feel any better, then to twist the knife he turned to Beiste, "Right?"

The woman rolled her massive shoulders in a half shrug, "Think so, 'pends on how bad it was. Dun let women work on him so I g'no idea. It would be best if he was still, wouldn'ta been well enough fer slappin' one way or tha other," she added seeing the distress in Santana's face.

When she silently looked into her mug Puck sighed, lowering his voice upon seeing another servant enter, "If you're with her it's just something you're gonna hafta learn to take."

Santana felt anger and then great despair, because his words were true in many ways.

If she were to truly give herself over to Brittany this was something that would be a reality, she could have the queen in every way, but it wouldn't keep the king from taking what he wanted.

She downed the rest of the mug, because she needed that burn to fill her, she needed her whole body to feel it, because she already knew there was no other course for her. She loved Brittany and would continue to, Archibald be damned.

* * *

When Santana returned to her room later she found Brittany still hadn't and she was distantly worried, but not too much. The strong drink had muddled her head enough for her to wish to hold off her worries on the matter for another day. As quietly as could be managed she stumbled into her bed and fell into an immediate and deep sleep.

That night she dreamt of Elisa, the woman had her tied to that tree and was beating her endlessly while Sam circled them on the king sovereign's horse, calling to her, trying to get closer, but never managing it. She screamed in her dream, the pain seeming real and fresh, all of the fears she'd ever had, all of the pains reached her at once and the intensity of it startled her awake.

With a thud she fell from her bed and scrambled to her feet, immediately regretting the action as she stood and felt her head swim. Grabbing it, she swayed on her feet and tried to block the ringing in her ears by covering them, but the sound was inside her.

Sitting down, she composed herself cursing Puck before remembering the reason for such copious drinking and jumping up again. It made her world waver again, but she ignored it as she rushed from her room and into the queen's to thankfully find her tucked in her bed. Quickly, she went to her side and carefully brushed blonde hair from her face, checking for any sign that she had been hurt. She found none on the smooth cheek so kissed it softly to wake her.

Blue eyes fluttered open and focused on her after a moment, "Morning," she mumbled before yawning.

Santana stepped back not knowing, despite everything, if it was her place to ask what happened the night before. She observed Brittany standing easily enough and as she waited patiently for Santana to pick a dress for her, she decided it wasn't to be discussed. The morning passed with her fulfilling her duties and the queen playing the role of the caring wife when her husband came limping, a tad dramatically in Santana's opinion, down the hall.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather rest?" Brittany asked in a caring voice that lacked any real underlying concern.

He shook his head, his usually immaculate hair falling in his face, "I need to show my subjects that it wasn't that bad."

"But it was," she said plainly.

"And I don't want them to know that!" he snapped, immediately wincing as the effort clearly caused him pain.

That pleased Santana and reassured her that he hadn't been bedding his queen during the night… though it was possible he had and the strain had made him this way.

Shaking her head she fell in step behind Brittany and next to Tina who looked like someone had given her a great gift.

The morning meal passed in the usual silence and when it was over Santana was prepared to lead Brittany out to the gardens, but to her complete surprise the blonde crossed the dining hall to Archibald's side of the table. Santana abruptly followed wondering what the queen was planning.

She stopped just short of his chair, watching Tina feed him as apparently it hurt for him to lift his arms.

Seeing her approach he glared at her and grunted as a signal for Tina wait, "What?" he asked gruffly.

"I was about to go for a ride and was wondering if you would join me?"

Santana, Archibald and Tina seemed taken aback by the request.

"Woman are you that stupid? Do you see the pain I'm in?"

"I do, but I thought it might go some ways in proving you aren't hurt," she said innocently.

"This is why women don't rule," he grumbled, "Go and have your ride alone."

"As you wish," she said, giving him a polite curtsey and exiting.

Santana thought for a moment they might actually return to their usual routine, but Brittany requested the stables and the smaller woman obliged.

The stable hands were a bit alarmed to see her, fearing they had failed to prepare for an event, but Santana was able to calm them and soon Brittany's mount was saddled and ready. Quietly she helped her onto her horse and once she was seated Santana looked up, hoping her queen could feel her questioning gaze; and to her amazement she could.

"He would have been enraged if I had gone off without asking him to join even though we both know he couldn't," she said, looking down at Santana.

She nodded, already able to picture him throwing a fit over being left behind and complaining how it made him look weak. His level of pettiness irritated her, but she was glad the queen had foreseen his mood.

Brittany started off and Santana followed silently as the queen took the royal's trail that led into the woods. The mare's pace was slow to allow Santana to follow comfortably behind and in that lull before the woods were reached her curiosity overwhelmed her.

"What did he want?" she asked, so quietly the sound almost didn't make it over the soft clop of hooves.

A smirk appeared on her face, "Nothing really. He thought he might die in the night so he was telling me what to tell his father about the rebellion. It was all lies and made him a well-rounded hero and Kurt an unreasonable, vile, lewd man."

Relief flooded Santana at that, but she had to be sure, "He… he didn't try to hurt you… or anything did he?" she asked looking up, daring to hope.

"No," she said, but there was something about her tone that the smaller woman didn't like.

But she didn't get to comment on it, because shortly after they entered the woods Brittany extended her hand to Santana who only looked at it questioningly.

"M'lady?"

"We're alone, so call me Brittany, and don't walk while I ride, it makes me feel foolish."

Santana continued to eye the offered hand, "I don't know how to ride."

"I'll do everything, just give me your hand."

Reluctantly, Santana allowed Brittany to hoist her up into the saddle and, once seated and pressed snuggly against Brittany's front, she felt that it wasn't such a bad idea. At least until the creature started moving. The feeling was unnerving and the true height of a horse was never impressed upon her so much as when she looked to the ground from its back. She was afraid of falling and disliking the way her thighs started to burn, trying to keep the animal squarely under her, but when Brittany wrapped a steadying arm around her she relaxed. For the first time she realized the beast wasn't galloping, it was merely a slow trot that allowed her to see all the trees and animals around her. She could see the sun peeking through the branches at them and smell the salty air from the ocean, she could hear birds and bugs singing their praise to the morning, making her calm even more and ending the dull throb that had been in her head since she had woken.

They traveled for some time and the hypnotic sound of falling hooves started to rock the brunette into a drowsy state.

"This is nice," Santana said contentedly, allowing herself to fall even further into Brittany's arms.

Though the other woman didn't seem concerned with letting her relax, because she placed a gentle kiss on Santana's neck that made the vile drink from the previous night seem like a handful of ice water when compared to how it made her whole body blaze.

"It is," Brittany agreed before giving her another feather light kiss.

Santana began to writhe as the blonde's hand moved from its supportive position and lifted her shirt, allowing her fingers to dance lightly over hot skin. An involuntary moan escaped the smaller woman and suddenly the saddle was much too small and constricting. Wriggling, she was able to disentangle herself from the queen and slip unceremoniously to the ground.

The queen looked down at her, worry in her eyes, "Did you not like that?"

Santana couldn't help the smirk on her lips, "The saddle doesn't offer me the chance to kiss you back."

With a laugh, Brittany joined her on the ground and Santana assisted before tying her mare to a nearby tree. When she turned, she planned to return the sweet kisses she had been given, but instead the taller woman pulled her further into the trees. Once they were out of sight of the road the queen saw fit to stop and allow their lips to meet again, though she wasn't prepared for the fever with which Santana did so.

She pushed Brittany back against the nearest tree and deepened their kiss for all she was worth, she touched the other woman with more boldness than she'd ever had before that moment, cupping her breasts and kneading them gently.

The sounds that erupted from her were more than enough to make Santana feel that she was ready for more. She needed more of those sounds, louder and all around her, nervous and excited she lifted Brittany's dress, only to remember how much of it there actually was. With a growl of frustration she had to break their kiss to deal with the garment and then the underclothes beneath that. Brittany waited with an amused smile at Santana's frustrations, but that expression flew away the second tanned fingers found their way between her legs.

Suddenly everything was much more intense, and Brittany held her close as if letting would mean to fall endlessly. For her part, Santana didn't know what she was doing, but she knew how to pleasure herself and felt she wouldn't be remiss in starting there. So she moved her fingers slowly around the hardened nub she felt and pressed it in a gentle rhythm, loving the sweet song that fell from Brittany's lips as she did so. The sound of her gasps and pining mewls managed to make Santana feel more aroused than she could ever remember being. And the sound that left when she slid her fingers inside the other woman would stay with her always. She knew immediately that if ever there were a time she needed to give herself release that sound would have her there in no time.

"S-Santana…" Brittany panted, her face a mix of emotions and needs that her lover couldn't decipher, she could tell there was something more she was trying to say but was unwilling to relent long enough to hear it.

Instead she pumped her fingers faster, pausing only to move them against the velvety, soft flesh encasing them. The blonde's breathing quickened and Santana kissed her deeply, hoping to convey her feeling more accurately since words had failed her.

But Brittany broke the kiss, clearly worried by something, "Santana," she moaned again and again it seemed that saying her name was supposed to explain the problem, but she didn't get it.

"Yes?" she asked, her own breath now coming in short pants.

"I don't- I think I'm-" she tried, but was cut off by a moan deep within.

Understanding, Santana nuzzled her neck placing kisses along it from top to bottom, "I know, it's okay," she said softly and with those words the woman in her arms came apart, her body arching against the tree as Santana discretely moved her other hand to let her reach the same plateau of pleasure.

It didn't surprise Santana in the least that with a few quick strokes she easily reached that goal, collapsing forward against Brittany whose whole body was still trembling. Slowly, she sank to the ground and Santana followed, content to lay slumped in her lap until the end of time.

After a while, when their breathing was somewhat normal again Brittany spoke.

"You said that would be like coupling with a man, but it was very different."

Santana felt a spike of fear break her calm, "Did you not like it?" she asked sitting up.

"I did," she laughed, "Very much so, that's why it's different. I've never…" she paused and looked fixedly at her hands, "That's never happened to me before."

Santana frowned, "What hasn't?"

More color flooded Brittany's already flush cheeks, "I've never lost control of myself like that."

Still confused she pointed to herself, "You mean kissing me? Or-"

"No, I mean… at the end where…" she trailed off again, clearly feeling a bit of shame.

Then she understood and her eyes widened, "Oh, you've never peaked before."

"Peeked at what?"

"No, that's just what some call it when you reach the height of pleasure with sex. I didn't know about it either until after I became a woman."

Brittany's face scrunched up a bit, "Is this amount of… moisture normal as well?"

Santana leaned closer kissing her slowly and deeply before answering, "When you _want_ sex it is."

"I understand then, because up until now it has always hurt and I didn't like it at all."

A frown creased Santana's brow, because she knew that pain, and she also never wanted it for Brittany ever again, but she was steeling herself against the hard truth. That it would happen again.

Saddened by the thought she pushed some of Brittany's hair out of her face and kissed her again slowly.

When they parted Brittany's eyes were deep pools of black with a rim of blue and Santana felt stirrings within her at the sight, wanting to disrobe the other woman and do the things she had seen in the caravan.

Apparently the thought was on Brittany's mind as well, "Want to go again?" she asked, still breathless from their kiss.

Glancing up at the sun's position, Santana reluctantly shook her head, "Court will be in session soon, we should leave now unless you plan to go as you are."

Brittany observed the state of her clothes and felt the tangles in her hair and sighed, "I suppose you're right."

They stood and returned to Brittany's mare where Santana assisted the queen onto her mount; however, after everything she was still surprised when Brittany offered her hand. This time she did not argue and simply allowed herself onto the horse, knowing she would be allowed to dismount before they came within view of the castle.

On the return trip Santana once again lay happily in Brittany's arms and the taller woman embraced her the same as before, but somehow it meant more. Especially after Brittany kissed her gently behind the ear and whispered, "I love you," an emotion that was expressed with all the honesty Santana found daunting to give.

"And I love you," she replied easily, as if it were common knowledge that they were exchanging.

On the inside, however, the brunette was rejoicing, because for all that Archibald may have had of her lover, Santana had her heart.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to **chombiric **for a super fast turn around on the betaing process :)

And thanks to everyone who has reviewed, pm'ed, faved, and alerted you have no idea how far it goes to get me motivated to write rather than nap XP


	11. Chapter 11

From the moment they first kissed Santana knew her desire for Brittany would only grow, and after their morning tryst in the woods she knew it would become even more urgent. What she hadn't expected was for the same to be true for Brittany.

There was hardly a moment where they were alone and their lips weren't attached in greedy kisses, hands grasping each other tightly, exploring all the places they had never dared. Part of the urgency, aside from the constantly present danger of being caught, was that in the four days since the woods they hadn't had the time to go any further. Santana did make it a habit to pleasure her queen during her bath since attempting any sort of cordiality during that event seemed ridiculous to both of them. But even with that forward move she was indeed the very reason nothing more had occurred.

Of course Santana was aware that she could quite easily slip into the tub with Brittany and they could spend as much time as they wished together, however, she wasn't exactly confident in attempting the things she had seen and felt trying either technique in a tub was courting disaster. Since Archibald's injuries meant he never traveled a step farther than he absolutely had to, there was very little risk of him unexpectedly entering Brittany's bedchambers and, even so, on any average day there was almost no risk of that. However, Santana still put her queen to bed with kisses that had them both yearning for more before she returned to her own room. Because it felt too familiar, and there were still scars - old, deep scars - that reminded her that being caught was to court death.

Elisa had taught her well and it wasn't a lesson Santana was willing to forget so easily.

It was a morning like every other when Santana woke; she stood, stretched and yawned before changing into the well-worn clothes that marked her as a slave to the royals. A broken comb was all she was allowed in the way of making herself up, so she combed through her hair and decided to tie it into a ponytail on a whim. With no mirror to examine the result, she merely rubbed her palms over her silky hair to try and replace any strands that may have gone astray and stepped out into the royal's hall. Quickly, she dashed into the servant's halls to make her way to her waiting meal and ate, speaking with each of her friends in turn as she did, before leaving to return to her queen.

Indeed the morning was like any other, which was why it shocked her so badly to see Karofsky standing by her door when she returned. Their eyes met and he merely glowered while her face showed blatant surprise.

After she felt assured that he wasn't there to drag her off to be whipped, she was able to then realize he wasn't standing outside her door. He was standing outside Brittany's.

And with a familiar, ice cold splash of fear she realized that meant Archibald was nearby.

Her eyes went to the door and her ears perked up trying to listen for sounds of distress but heard nothing apart from Karofsky's deep breaths.

Worried, she looked to him, "Has he been in long?"

The large man's eyes narrowed, "Yes, they are to be left be until he leaves."

Looking at the door again, she felt the beginnings of panic taking over and she was lost deep in thought of all the things that could be happening behind the door when he spoke again.

"You talked to Kurt," he said.

Santana needed a moment to think on his words before responding. "What?" she said, because that hadn't made any sense.

"You talked to Kurt."

"Yes," she replied frowning, wondering where he was going with his statement.

"He talked of me?"

"Uh-" she said, remembering exactly what Kurt said.

The man's eyes narrowed into slits as it was clear her response gave him his answer, "You tell no one," he growled, those amber eyes flashing dangerously.

It hadn't occurred to her to even try, not out of any respect for Karofsky, but out of deference to Kurt, "I haven't and I won't."

He nodded tersely and returned to staring back out at the hall, Santana immediately faced the ornate door and returned to trying to figure out why the king was there, without Matthew, so early in the morning.

An eternity seemed to pass before she heard any sort of sound, and then suddenly the door swung open and Archibald limped out looking haggard. Santana watched him warily as he passed, the king ignored her and his own guard before he turned and began to walk back in the direction of his own rooms.

The moment Karofsky stopped blocking her way Santana flew into the room, terrified of what she would find. Upon entering she felt a flash of fear when she couldn't see Brittany anywhere, but then the door closed and she realized the queen had been the one who opened it in the first place.

She didn't know what to say, Brittany's face was neutral and there were no bruises, but her face didn't explode into that natural smile she had whenever their eyes met.

"What happened?" Santana asked, unable to take another moment of uncertainty.

Her eyes fell to the floor, but even so she could see the tears forming there, "I'm sorry, Santana."

And that was it, one of her worst fears confirmed. He had come to claim her as was his right, as king and her husband Brittany couldn't have refused him, but it didn't stop the knowledge of what he had done from cutting deep.

It must have shown on her face, the despair and the hurt, because Brittany began to cry in earnest, "Please forgive me."

Santana opened her mouth to reply, to try and say words of understanding, because she did truly understand, but words failed her. Everything was numb and distant and confusing. She had always known things would be this way, but somehow knowing it could happen and knowing when it actually did happen were different things.

"Last time, when he spoke to me, the healers told him that he was bleeding inside his chest and that it was possible he could die in the night, so he became fearful of dying without an heir," Brittany explained quickly, tears still pouring down her face, "he is still having problems so he wanted to try, even if it hurt him a great deal."

Santana felt like her heart had been ripped out, "This is my fault," she muttered quietly, "I caused this."

"No," Brittany said quickly, coming to her side, "It would have happened anyway, he's tried to get me with child since we were married, he frequents my rooms often, but usually leaves long before sunrise. His wounds prevented him from leaving in a timely manner."

"He's been in here before?" Santana asked and immediately wished she hadn't; not only would the answer inevitably be yes, but the question only served to push the idea that she felt Brittany was somehow at fault for Archibald coming into her room.

"Not since we've…" she said and stopped, her eyes dropping before more tears fell, "Santana, it won't be the last time."

"I know," she replied, her throat constricting.

"I'd understand if you don't want to be with me anymore…" Brittany's words were shaky and said as one who didn't want to make the offer they knew they had to.

Hearing those words snapped Santana out of her daze and she was finally able to move, she went right up to Brittany and kissed her as passionately as she could. She could smell Archibald on her and it made her want to cry, but nothing could make her stop loving the woman before her.

Brittany returned the kiss, clearly relieved that Santana was even willing to give her one, and for a while they held each other until the smaller woman could find her voice.

"I don't blame you. Please don't think that," she said, brushing blonde hair back and looking into large, teary, sorrowful eyes, "And I always want to be with you."

Before another word could be exchanged between them there was a loud knock on the door that made them both jump. It was time for the other servants to enter and help the queen ready herself for the day, even though they both wanted more time together.

However, they both knew what had to be done, so after one final, lingering kiss Brittany beckoned them to enter.

* * *

The morning seemed to drag as Santana was forced to stand in the dining hall with a man she wanted to maul very badly. She couldn't help but steal glances at him as he sat back feebly in his chair, Tina lifting mouthfuls of food up to him, looking like an oversized infant.

When they reached the gardens there was little they had to say to each other, Santana merely left to sit and stare at the small pond and Brittany followed to sit quietly by her side. She had decided not to cry over this, to keep her feelings on the matter to herself, because like everything involving the queen they were too big and to think on them hurt too much.

"I love you," Brittany said softly as she moved closer so they were pressed together.

Santana nodded her understanding and continued to be silent, the other woman lay her head on her shoulder and they sat that way, unmoving in the morning sun. After some time Brittany gathered the courage to take her hand, Santana returned the gesture easily and somehow with that the tension in the air eased.

With gentle caresses they said everything they couldn't seem to find the words for. Santana could practically feel Brittany's desire for more, to hold her closer, to kiss her, but the blonde seemed to understand they were currently being as intimate as she could stand to be. The morning was spent in that silence and so was the day, no words passed between them, yet much was said.

Night fell and after an uneventful bath Santana tucked her into bed, the queen watching her trough worried eyes as she did. And though it had been her intent to let the day pass in silence, she couldn't help but offer a few words to the woman who seemed suddenly unsure of the meaning behind her silence.

"I haven't stopped loving you. I'm sure I couldn't even if I wanted."

"Do you want to?" she asked, her eyes holding Santana's steadily.

"No," and it was oddly true, she honestly preferred having the love of someone she felt so strongly for, even with all the pain came with it.

"I don't want you to either," Brittany's eyes fell to the bed and suddenly her hands twisted nervously, "You have my heart, all of it."

A smile reached Santana's lips for the first time that day, "And you have all of mine."

Those words seemed to put a light in her eyes as she lay back in her bed, "Tell me you love me," she said like a child requesting a bedtime tale.

"I love you," Santana replied, feeling a little surprised at how easily she was able to say those words, given that her entire life had been spent trying not to feel such an emotion, much less admit to it.

Suddenly the queen looked far less bold as she made her next request, "Kiss me," and even though it was a request, her trepidation made it come out sounding almost like a question.

Santana realized that they hadn't done so since the morning. Not willing to let that continue, she leaned forward and kissed Brittany, only realizing how much she missed it when their lips touched.

It was long and lingering, as their goodnight kisses tended to be, but like every other touch they shared that day it said something; it reassured and comforted. And when they broke apart she knew they would be alright, that Archibald's claim to her bed wouldn't end them or make Santana forget her feelings.

But as she returned to her room she felt old scars burn, because she hadn't forgotten her lesson either. Santana could still feel those lashes under all the others, every single one; she felt them warning her to stop before she found herself upon the very execution block she had stood on her first day at the castle.

* * *

The next day found them back to their old routine, the morning spent behind the large tree in the garden, kissing passionately in the sunlight, both seeming eager to make up for a lost day. They kissed until Santana wasn't sure that there had ever been anything else in the world other than Brittany, so it was intensely confusing when it suddenly stopped.

Opening her eyes she looked up, first to find the sun ready to hit her eyes, its glare uninhibited since the cold had stolen the tree's leaves. The next thing she noticed was Brittany sitting up and straightening her clothing a bit before smiling down at her.

Santana smiled back lopsidedly, still not completely comprehending what was going on and then she heard footsteps. Suddenly she was aware of what was happening, but it was too late to react, half a heartbeat later Matthew was standing before them.

Her heart pounded fiercely and her scars tingled as the fear of being caught flared through her. However, it was quickly apparent that, despite the fact that she was flat on her back looking rather flabbergasted, the man was completely unaware of what had just been happening.

"Highness, the king requests an audience," he said with a deep bow.

Brittany's nose scrunched up as she listened to the request, "Isn't he with the council now?"

Matthew got the familiar look of someone who was trying to simplify a complicated story, "They adjourned early, some time ago actually."

"He threw a child's fit about something," she said with a sigh.

The man's eyes glinted slightly as a sort of silent affirmation, "They had a disagreement of some sort."

"What does he want?"

Matthew's eyes became apologetic, "I have been requested to only tell you that you are needed."

She nodded and stood, but not before taking Santana's hand and giving it a squeeze. When she had begun to walk towards the castle Matthew turned to her suddenly, making her heart jump again.

"After the king meets with her it will be time for them to go to court, I will assist her there, so you may do as you like from here," he said before marching off after the queen.

Santana sat up and breathed deeply, out of fear of what had just transpired and of whatever it was Archibald wanted. She had never known the man to call for his wife so often, however, he had crossed paths with her rather frequently before. Though the encounters had been short he did see her every now and again outside of meals and occasionally carried out a brief, and usually mean spirited, conversation. This could be the same thing, his injuries preventing him from going to her so he sent for her to come to him.

Or it could be his injuries reminding him of his mortality and need to bring another of his bloodline into the world.

The thought made her grit her teeth painfully and suddenly she couldn't stand to be sitting any longer. Angrily, she stood, folding the blanket and returning it to its proper place before making her way to the cliffs, wishing more and more with every step that the servant's hidden tavern was open before nightfall.

She arrived at the clearing in a rage that was lessened by surprise at the fact that she wasn't the only one there; sitting at the cliff's edge sat Michael and next to him Puck.

It wasn't particularly startling to find Michael there as she knew he came to this place often, it was a little surprising to see Puck, but not by a lot. The thing that threw her was that she knew both men were busy during this time of day.

Cautiously she approached, worried that she may be interrupting some sort of serious moment when Puck turned and smiled at her.

"You should work on your stealth, your steps are light but your breathin's heavy," he said merrily, "Come, join us."

Relaxing slightly, she moved to sit next to Michael, allowing her legs to dangle off the edge of the rocks and feeling a slight thrill of danger as she did so.

"Why are you two here?"

"Castle's gone crazy, didn't you hear?" Puck asked, looking astounded by her ignorance.

She didn't recall seeing anything out of the ordinary on her way, so she shrugged, "I hadn't noticed."

"Somethin' wild happened at court."

Michael decided to save her from having to ask, "Apparently the king is set on war. So far the council will not allow him to declare it on his allies unless he is struck first. However, we all know it will happen one way or the other."

"Soldiers got wind of it, some tried leavin', plenty'r stayin' , but talk of rebellin's going on 'cause the soldiers didn't join to have to kill their own families."

Santana's brow creased, "What do you mean some _tried_ leaving?"

"Azimio cut them down with that sword of his," Michael said lightly, his eyes distant, a look that told Santana that his knowledge of that may have been first hand.

"It'll quieten down in time," Puck said knowingly, "He'll whip the resistance out o' the rest of them that's still thinkin' 'bout deserting. I hear his whip makes Karofsky's seem meek, beat a girl a few days ago for dropping a spoon or something like, and he whipped her dead for it. Was her first beatin' on her first day."

Santana squirmed as her own back began to prickle in warning, "How did the soldiers even find out? This happened only moments ago," she said, steering the conversation away from Azimio and his cruelty.

"Word travels fast here," Michael said softly.

"Council ain't supposed to have servants there, but I know a woman who, er, sneaks in on occasion to hide under her master's robes if you catch my meanin'."

"I do," Santana said tersely, her disgust at the castle and all the lords in it flaring.

"Well, she heard, n' told me and I mighta said something to the smith and then some soldiers came to get fitted…" he trailed off, letting the tale weave itself.

"So they will fight," she said nodding, "What does this mean for us."

"Nothing," Michael said looking out over the sea, "Nothing at all unless the castle falls."

"And then?"

"Possible freedom for the slaves and death for the royals," he said with a shrug.

Santana felt her heart nearly leap out of her chest, "Death? For the queen as well?"

"Most likely," he said sadly, "Though I am told Lord Schuester is a kind, benevolent man that kindness need not extend to his enemies."

"But she's not his enemy!" Santana exclaimed, as if to convince Michael was to convince the lord.

"No, but she is key to the king sovereign's campaign and many will see that as reason enough. I do not know him, but I understand him to be a man of the people and if the people call for it, she will be killed."

She had come to the cliffs to try and forget the pains of imagining Archibald forcing himself on the woman she loved. Thinking of an unknown man riding in and executing her for being in a position she had resented all her life did just that. Now she felt sick, dizzy and in danger of falling from the cliff's edge.

"It ain't likely that'll happen though," Puck chimed in, "The castle has lots of defenses and even a fool like Archibald can manage em'. Anyone approaching has to cross th' plains, and the second they do we'll see 'em comin' over the ridge."

Santana thought back to her first day, she had indeed ridden up a steep hill that exposed her fully to anyone watching. She had seen the castle, but clearly the castle saw her; indeed for a castle with sea and stone guarding its rear and open land exposing any attack well in advance, any incoming army would have a hard time getting close.

"Yes, and they will be killed long before they get here," Michael said, giving Puck a meaningful look.

"Indeed," he replied before hopping up, "I guess it's up to fate t' decide if I die a servant or a freed man."

Michael watched Puck walk away and Santana watched him, it was clear to her now that she had interrupted some other conversation.

"I was intruding on something."

"Not really, we were merely escaping the bedlam," he said and Santana understood not to question any further. "Why are you here?" the question was asked gently and when she turned to him she saw concern in his eyes.

"The king has requested his queen so I was sent away," she said, making Brittany's fate seem more obvious than it actually was to her.

"I see, he still worries about his legacy."

"When did he ever stop?"

"Hmm, I suppose I should have said he is more worried now than ever before. I hear he has taken to bringing more women to his bed, servants that cannot refuse him."

Santana frowned, "Now? While he is too injured to move fully?"

Michael sighed, "I have heard that with him bedding two women and getting neither with child the king finally decided to consider the fault may lie with him."

She immediately understood, she suspected the information had come from Tina, but she didn't feel the need to ask.

"Has he ever…" she started, then stopped, because there was nothing in the question that wasn't violently intrusive or anything she really wanted to know.

"Has he ever gotten Lihua with child?" he asked, having discerned the rest, "We have never taken the time to find out."

"Sorry, it wasn't my intention to pry like that."

He merely shrugged and stared back out at the ocean. Santana did the same, but unfortunately it made her think of everything all she had been told. And now there was a sharp pain in her chest that was acute enough to make her gasp every time she though of the upcoming battle and Brittany's possible fate.

"Michael," she said, her voice hoarse as if she had been screaming for hours, "do you ever wish you had never met Tina? That life would be easier without what you feel now?"

"No," he said immediately, "there has never been one day where I have not thanked the heavens for her."

Santana looked to him with sad and weary eyes, "How? How can this be better? Maybe it could be like you said, with her soul and yours meeting later, just not now, in this."

She needed him to explain, she needed to know because at the moment there seemed to be no benefit to her feelings and no hope for them. There was no pleasant future for her and Brittany, the best she could hope for was to love her in secret while constantly fearing death.

He sighed, seeing her need to hear his reasons, "Our marriage was arranged, as was my parent's, however, unlike them I was able to love the woman I was given. I've traveled the world and learned that the rarest thing to find is two people who are truly meant to be at each other's side. I hate Archibald with all my being and if my death wouldn't make Lihua so sad I would give my life to end his. Every time he takes her I feel like I am being eaten alive from the inside while being flayed and there is nothing I can do to stop it; sleep, drink, nothing can ever numb the pain. But what I feel when I look at her, when I love her, it does not even compare. Living without knowing her love is the worst thing I can think of."

Santana looked at him in awe and nodded, "I can understand your feelings."

He gave a rueful smile, "Can you?"

"I can…" she said not willing to divulge more, but Michael's interest seemed piqued and as she had always asked such personal things of him she felt compelled to be more open. Steeling herself against his possible reaction she continued, "But it's a woman I feel for."

He chuckled, "And do I know this friend of yours? I don't wish to pry either, but I have not known you to spend time with anyone outside our small group. Would Lihua be who we are speaking of?"

"No," she said quickly shaking her head before realizing he was assuming that the relationship she spoke of was based on only friendship, "I meant what I said in a… romantic way," she confessed with great difficulty.

His brow knit as he took that in before he carefully asked, "To be sure I get your meaning, you are saying there is a _woman_ you feel strongly for? In the way I feel for my wife?"

She gave a slow nod thinking maybe that bit of information might have done better kept to herself. Michael's reaction, though muted like Puck's, was clearly far less accepting.

"Does this woman return the sentiment?"

"Yes," she muttered, suddenly not wanting to talk about it anymore.

His frown deepened as he thought harder and Santana was just about to try and once again broach the subject of the upcoming war when he asked, "The queen?"

Her eyes widened at that and her heart jumped around wildly in her chest, "How…"

A half smile replaced his frown, "She is the only woman I can think of that you have spent any considerable time with. And the only person I know who is, uh, eccentric enough to return such feelings."

She gulped feeling a sharp fear grip her as she thought about him possibly telling someone and was reminded forcibly of Karofsky, "Don't tell anyone."

He gave another stale chuckle, "I won't, I have no desire to see either of you hung."

Sounds of the sea filled the air for a while before Santana said, "It makes you uncomfortable. What I am," she said feeling incredibly uncomfortable herself.

Michael gave her a quick glance, "I won't pretend to understand what you share or why, but I can't say it causes me distress." Looking back over the ocean again, deep in thought, he continued, "If you indeed feel for her what I feel for Lihua then I am sorry for you, and your love, but I am glad you have both found happiness."

"You don't think me odd?"

She could see his face twist into something between apologetic and contemplative, "It is unusual. I have heard of others like yourself, though mainly through Puck, but I'd never given the reality of it any serious thought." Santana hung her head slightly feeling worse about herself than she had in a long time when Michael took her hand, "Don't let my words make you doubt yourself. I have wished for our queen to know real kindness from the moment I saw the truth of her situation and if you are the person to show her that kindness I am nothing but happy for you."

She smiled back at him, hating how much his opinion mattered to her but feeling elated nonetheless, "But you _do_ think me odd," she said with a small laugh.

A kind look crossed his face that she knew few besides his wife ever saw, "I wouldn't say odd. If she loves you as you say, I would think you fortunate."

* * *

As it turned out the news of Archibald's intent caused court to run late into the day, and by the time Santana saw Brittany again it was under the formality of the evening meal. Archibald sat on his side, being fed while glaring daggers across the table at his wife, meaning they couldn't even exchange a private word.

Once she had escorted her queen to her bath and they were in isolated privacy, the blonde finally spoke as Santana helped her out of her dress.

"He only wanted to discuss a letter he had received," she said to clarify the reason for her earlier departure.

Santana only nodded and helped her into the water, however, it was clear that her silence was worrying the queen, so as she began to clean her back she asked, "What was the letter about?"

"It was from my older sister," she said and Santana felt surprised, she had never known Brittany had siblings.

"How many sisters do you have?"

"Eleven, though not all by the same mother. I only have two by blood, having so many girls was why my father traded me for a claim to the throne."

Santana nodded but refused to let Brittany dwell on the heartache that was her father, "What did she want?"

"I don't know," she said sadly, "It was written in my native tongue, but I can't read it anymore. Matthew can speak it, so he hoped I would be able to read the words for him to decipher for Artie."

"He was angry you couldn't?"

"Sort of, but he was more worried that it was bad news of the war since it has been some time since his father has sent word. I was more angry than he was."

"Why?"

"Because I have completely forgotten my home," her voice wavered, revealing her distress, "I couldn't understand a single word."

Santana sat quietly for a long time, washing Brittany's skin, pink from scrubbing and the heat of the bath, thinking hard on what to say.

It was with no small amount of effort that she admitted, "I don't remember my name."

Brittany frowned, "It's Santana, right?"

"I don't remember my surname. I remember I liked it, and that I always thought it fit me, but after… after everything was gone I never said it or even thought of it, because it hurt so much to remember. And now it's just gone."

As the confession left her mouth she realized she was shaking slightly and she handed the cloth over to Brittany before tucking her hands under her arms.

The blonde looked up at her with a small smile, "I never had one, so you can be like me."

That made Santana frown slightly, "I thought you came from a royal family?"

She laughed a little, "We aren't really royals, more like the strongest of the outcasts. But where I come from, girls aren't given a surname until they marry. They never belong to their fathers, only to the men who will wed them, so you can see why, when the rules of succession here reached my father's ears, he was so eager to make use of me."

"That sounds... unpleasant," she said, not wanting to offend.

"I never liked the idea either, but since you no longer claim a surname it works perfectly. We can just be Brittany and Santana."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Is that your way of suggesting we marry?"

She giggled in response, "No, it's my way of saying I belong to you."

Santana had held on to the weight of forgetting herself for some time, it was something that had eaten at her every time she had dared think of it, and just like that Brittany had turned it into something that could make her smile.

Unable to contain herself any longer, she leaned over and gave a kiss to the woman who owned her heart so completely.

It didn't take long for it to escalate until they were both panting and Santana was in danger of being pulled in the water, but this time the brunette pulled away and calmly offered her charge a drying cloth. Brittany pouted magnificently as she did and changed into her nightclothes before being escorted to bed.

The queen entered her chambers and crawled into bed, clearly ready to drag out her goodnight kiss to make up for the loss of intimacy earlier, but when they kissed it wasn't the same. Santana didn't hover over her and pull away when they got too close, instead she pushed the covers away and sat at her side before kissing her fully. Immediately, Brittany understood that this was something else entirely and didn't hesitate to return the kiss, letting her hands go where they wanted. And they wanted to pull Santana closer.

In the overall picture Santana knew what she was doing was incredibly foolish, she knew that the king could walk in at any time. She knew that doing what she was planning would only link them together, that it would make every pain suffered by one that much more intense to the other. However, she had decided it was worth it, her senses and her still burning scars told her it was folly. But her heart kept breaking every time she thought of dying having only the one moment in the woods between them, of Brittany being killed without her having been able to fully express the extent of her love. The potential sorrow of having been too fearful of death to give herself something worth living for was too great.

So she kissed Brittany for all she was worth while taking off her gown, having a much easier time with it than the dress. It was removed easily enough, but Brittany seemed to have reached the end of her patience with being the only person naked in the room and nearly ripped Santana's shirt in an effort to remove it and her bindings.

The moment her chest was exposed, starving hands caressed her and squeezed tender flesh while hot kisses went from her lips to her neck. And though Santana thought she understood the varying degrees of pleasure, the feeling of Brittany's lips as they took in her breasts made everything else seem mild in comparison.

She allowed the assault on her chest to continue and was in a foggy, pleasure induced haze when the queen began to remove the rest of her clothing, but it was something she snapped right out of when a blazing fire lit from where Brittany had buried her fingers. A strangled gasp escaped Santana as Brittany began to work her fingers inside of her, she had no idea what experience the queen had with the act, but if her performance was anything to go by she would have guessed the woman to be a master. With ease she pulled Santana between her legs for better access, leaving the smaller woman to wonder at herself, at how she managed not to scream aloud from the feel of it.

Santana felt herself slipping away, off the edge of reality and to the beautiful place beyond, but somehow had the strength to pull the nimble fingers from her and move away.

Brittany looked startled and more than a little worried, "Was I doing something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, you," she paused, because it was too hard to breath and talk, "I want to do something else."

She frowned, "Like play a game or something?"

Santana chuckled and moved closer again, this time pulling Brittany close and lying her down on the bed. Her lover accepted the guidance with gentle, focused eyes that never broke contact with hers. And it was a little unnerving; especially in light of the fact that she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing.

Doing her best to mimic what she had seen before, she interlocked her legs with Brittany's in the same way that had played in her mind over and over and pressed into her, hoping that it would become immediately clear what it was she was supposed to do to get the same reaction from the woman below her. However, when they met she still had no inkling as to how this was supposed to bring either of them pleasure. But being unwilling to back down she pressed into her and pushed her hips forward and then she felt it. She felt the jolt from meeting Brittany's sensitive nub with her own and to her most intense pleasure it was clear she wasn't the only one who felt it. From there she had it; she knew exactly how to move.

Her hips almost immediately found the exact motion needed to hit the right spot on every thrust and she moved with no other purpose than to make Brittany moan. A goal that was not hard to meet, soon the blonde was holding her so tightly her nails bit into the skin of her back making them the first cuts she had ever wanted there. The first ones she was outright proud of.

As they moved together Brittany buried her face in Santana's neck, muffling her pants and screams and Santana merely stared fixedly at the bed, trying not to focus too hard on what was happening, because if she did she'd be lost; gone over the edge with no return. Because she could feel that same feeling from before, the one Puck seemed perpetually unable to satisfy, the overwhelming feeling of something from deep within rising up.

It wasn't until Brittany's throaty moans took a more frantic note that she allowed herself to move and reclaim her lover's lips before she watched her climax, a deep groan escaping the taller woman even as their kiss deepened. The feel of Brittany's release and the sharp bite of nails raking across her back made Santana do the same even though she would have loved to have been able to relish the sight a bit longer. But the feeling from before couldn't be held back for another moment, and when that feeling hit her full on, for the first time in her life she felt a true release. One that shook her to the very core, making her feel totally drained and completely alive at the same time.

Compared to the first time in the woods it took them twice as long for their breathing to return to normal, though they both took their time, coming down slowly while holding each other and sharing languid kisses. After some time and several failed attempts Santana was able to sit up and offer her queen a final, tender kiss before grabbing her clothing and throwing it on carelessly.

"Wait," Brittany said sitting up, looking slightly alarmed, "don't leave."

Feeling a little hurt by the look the other woman was giving her, she sat back down and gave her another kiss, "I have to return to my room, if the king finds me here in the morning it will be trouble."

"Not if you're clothed. It isn't unusual to have a servant of the same sex stay in bed. The queen sovereign did it all the time when her husband would go overseas. It's something royals commonly do for comfort," Brittany argued.

And with her cheeks flushed and hair tousled from their coupling, Santana wanted to just agree and return to her arms, but she knew better.

"If the king came in here and saw you taking comfort from me, regardless of what kind, do you think that would bode well?"

She sighed and shook her head, "No, he'd take you away out of spite the moment he felt angered by me."

"Then it's best to have him think I'm just another servant," she said before helping Brittany back into her nightclothes and tucking her in properly.

Santana stood to go to the door, but unfortunately turned to see the forsaken look on her queen's face, forcing her to return to her side, offering one more passionate kiss.

"Tell me this won't be the last time," Brittany said when they broke apart.

She almost chuckled at the notion, "No, mi reina, it won't be."

The moment the words slipped from her mouth she froze, because it had been completely unintentional, as a matter of fact she wasn't even sure what it meant. Vaguely, she remembered that it was something her father had called her mother in their more loving moments, but if her memory served, and it often didn't, it applied to Brittany in more than one way.

Having caught the foreign words, the queen gave a curious smile, "Those are words from your native land." When Santana nodded sheepishly Brittany inquired, "What does it mean?"

And then she remembered what it meant literally and what it meant between lovers, but the day had been trying and she wasn't ready to express what some part of her mind had given so easily.

"Don't worry over it, sleep now," she said, giving an encouraging smile and a final kiss on the forehead before hurrying out.

Quickly, Santana dashed into her room, knowing full well that there was no chance for sleep, her mind was racing and Elisa's lashes were warring with Brittany's scratches for attention.

But at least she had found a word for what she felt; Brittany was her queen, and not in the same way she was for the Abrams Kingdom. She was the queen of Santana's heart, body, and mind, the lone ruler of a kingdom meant only for her. Brittany was her everything.

It was an elating and terrifying thought.

* * *

A/N: S'up been a minute, but here's the new chapter.

If you aren't following me on tumblr you may not know about me and Borderlands 2. I'm all over it like white on rice, in a glass of milk, on a paper plate, in a snowstorm. I plan to be back soon though, things are gonna start changing around Castle Abrams whether for the better or worse will kind of be up for debate.


	12. Chapter 12

"I wish you could stay," Brittany said quietly, her voice vanishing into the still air.

Santana lay next to her on her stomach, her breathing not quite even. As promised, their first coupling hadn't been their last, in fact, in the twelve days since it had begun it had become rather frequent. It was now almost a part of the nightly ritual, Santana usually lingering until Brittany was quite sure her husband didn't plan to enter in the night. They hadn't been together every night, but close to it and Santana knew it couldn't continue, but still didn't know how to tell Brittany no.

"I wish I could, too."

The blonde turned on her side and snuggled closer to Santana, "I wish I could wake up to find you in my arms always."

She smiled at the thought, "That would be nice."

"It would be perfect. And after we woke up we could eat together and talk about all the things we wanted to do for the day."

"Hmm, I would think, for me, that would be to return to bed," Santana replied, smirking as she turned her head to face the woman tucked against her side.

Brittany laughed, "We could do that for hours, but _after_ we could go for a ride somewhere."

"No," she said, gaining her lover's attention, "Let's not ride, let's leave. This castle is too big and ominous, we should leave it and move far, far away to a small home in a large town. Somewhere where it is easy to be lost in the crowd, but in our home it will be just us."

A bright smile met her, "And can we have a garden there, too?"

"Yes, one only for you with a pond for all the birds to rest in during their travels," Santana said, giving her a gentle kiss.

It made Santana smile to think of such a place, to imagine carefree worlds the way Brittany did, but at the same time it was crushing, because she knew it would never be. The queen's imaginings almost seemed cruel in the face of reality, but if it made her smile Santana would gladly indulge the fantasy.

However, the brunette's joy faded as she saw the happiness drain from Brittany's face; she was sitting up and looking down at Santana, at her back. And with a sudden flash of fear she realized she had never lingered so long after sex that the other woman had been able to truly examine the handiwork of her previous owners.

She wanted to leap up and run away, to roll out of the bed and hide in her room, but somehow the weight of Brittany's stare kept her pinned down. The other woman ran soft, careful fingers over the intricate web of scars, a frown forming and deepening with every passing moment.

"It's not as awful as it looks," Santana said nervously, though she still had no idea how it looked.

Her eyes continued to look sadly over the criss-cross of scars before her eyes darkened, "Who did this?"

Santana was taken aback by the vehemence in her tone and sat up trying to turn the distressing sight away from her. "I've been beaten all my life, it's nothing to be so concerned for now," she said, hoping to calm her, but apparently only making it worse.

"It is something to be concerned over," she said, eyeing Santana's side as if she could still see what had upset her there, "And I want to know why you've continued to keep your beatings from me."

Santana frowned, "I haven't been whipped since before Azimio became the new understeward."

"Then why are there fresh wounds?" she asked, her eyes sharp.

The smaller woman couldn't help but chuckle, "Those are from you." A horrified look crossed Brittany's face, but knowing that was coming Santana nuzzled into her neck, pressing soft kisses there, "Don't be sorry. I have always been marked by those who hate me, it makes me quite happy to have the mark of one who loves me. I can think of nothing I want more than proof that I can pleasure my lady so thoroughly etched into my skin."

She knew her words had aroused Brittany again, her own kisses to the queen now had intent behind them, but she was aware that this couldn't go on. However, in light of the gentle caresses being sent down her sides, she decided it would for a little while longer.

"Maybe you enjoy them, but I never want to be a cause of pain for you ever again," Brittany said, a determined look on her face.

"I find it quite pleasurable so don't trouble yourself, mi reina," Santana said, uttering the pet name with a grin.

The queen's smile returned, though it was tinged with a frown, "And you still won't tell me what that means," she griped.

Santana merely chuckled mischievously before nibbling on her neck, eliciting a small moan, "Not yet."

She was playing coy, but the truth was that after she'd had a night to think on it she felt the term rather silly when explained. It sounded better to her in her native tongue and she wasn't sure how Brittany would take being called her queen, regardless of the language.

With a pout the other woman sighed and folded her arms, "That's unfair."

"A little, but all you need to know is it is my way of saying I love you."

She still seemed disgruntled, but was undeniably pleased, "You will tell me one day, right?"

Santana's eyes danced with amusement, "One day."

"Soon?"

"We'll see," she said before offering another kiss.

However, the connection was soon broken, because she knew the longer she lingered, the greater the danger. And Santana had no desire to ever find out what Archibald would think a proper punishment for his wife's infidelity.

With tremendous effort she pulled herself out of bed, putting her clothes back on with practiced efficiency, before helping Brittany back into hers. For a while, she simply stood near the bed, knowing she needed to leave, but not wanting to go and the blonde seemed content to let her.

Eventually she was able to leave and return to the solitude of her room, slightly comforted in the knowledge that her lover was so near.

* * *

By the next day that peace had faded.

Like every morning since the moment she had found Karofsky lurking outside Brittany's bed chambers, Santana was filled with nervousness every time she went to eat her morning meal. There was a time when she would have eaten quickly to return to her queen's side, but lately she had taken to slowing down and having lengthy conversations with her small assortment of friends if they had the time. She did it knowing that if the king so desired he could go into Brittany's room at any time and have his way with her, and if that was to be the case Santana felt it would be best for all if it happened without her knowledge. Seeing him leave her chambers caused a hurt that was deeper than a whip's lash and she did not plan to have the pain repeated.

When she finally returned she was pleased to find Brittany's door unoccupied and went in to wake the sleeping woman. The blonde rose slowly, giving her a greeting kiss before wandering to her dresser, ready to be dressed. Santana chose a dress for her - a dark color, in the hopes of hiding potential stains - and put it on for her as slowly as possible, sharing loving touches and gentle kisses as the garment was put on.

By the time the other servants joined they were both ready to send them away and spend the morning in bed together, but they didn't and soon Brittany was ready to greet her king.

Santana exited her bedroom and watched the man approach from down the hall with a look of disgust barely masked. He was walking taller these days as his wounds had healed significantly, and though it was clear he had full use of his arms he seemed to still feel it necessary for Tina to feed him.

When they arrived at the dining hall everyone took their appropriate place and began to feast on the spread that had been prepared. Everything proceeded as normal, with Santana waiting off to the side and thinking excitedly of being alone in the gardens with her queen, when suddenly Brittany called to her.

Surprised, it took her a moment to respond, and when she came to her side she found the woman pointing to the small bowl of seasoning a short distance from her plate.

"Can you hand me that please?" she asked kindly.

Santana was tempted to ask why, it was unlike Brittany to call for assistance to do a task she clearly could manage herself, but she caught herself in time and merely bowed with a 'Yes, m'lady'

When handed the requested item Brittany took her hand and examined the bowl, looking at its contents as if seeing them for the first time.

"I thought this was pure salt, but it's not," she said absently, her long fingers rubbing the back of Santana's hand gently.

The sensation made goose flesh run up her arm, "Um… no, this is…" she used to know, but with Brittany touching her that way she couldn't remember for the life of her what it was she was holding.

"Let me taste it then," she said simply and Santana gaped at her.

It was not at all an inappropriate request for nobility unwilling to put forth the effort to taste foods themselves, but with things like spices and salts it wasn't possible to just hand them over. In such cases when requested it was customary to allow her queen a taste from her finger, but given their relationship it felt like she was asking for an open mouthed kiss.

"Uh…yes, m'lady," she said before pressing a slightly trembling finger into the brown powder and offering it to Brittany.

The queen took the digit into her mouth, her tongue cleaning every bit of the offered spice off it and then some. Santana felt her heart rate spike and couldn't help but glance down the table to see if Archibald was out of his chair charging towards them, but the king was paying them no mind. Instead, he had his eyes on the subject of his own infidelity as Tina fed him his meal.

Her eyes snapped back to Brittany's to find them watching her intently, and her mouth went completely dry as she realized the woman was still tasting her finger. With a gentle nip she finally released it and frowned slightly.

"I'm pretty sure that was cinnamon."

"Yeah," Santana replied numbly, she had known that all along, but the word had escaped her until Brittany said it.

"At least it seems that way. Here, you taste it, maybe I'm wrong," she said easily before lifting the bowl from Santana's hands and dipping her finger into the powder.

Santana was shocked by her boldness, but again the action wasn't out of line, the royals often demanded slaves taste things. Though she had never seen a master make a slave taste a powder from their own hand, and rarely was there ever someone who was too lazy to taste their own food, but willing to reach over and offer the same to their slave. Then again, Brittany's unusual behavior towards those under her was quite well known.

Not wanting to draw attention to herself Santana agreed and allowed Brittany to offer her the spice. She had never tasted cinnamon before, it was bitter yet spicy at the same time, a heat multiplied by the fact that she had Brittany's finger in her mouth. Reflexively she allowed her tongue to do the same dance the blonde's had and it made her squirm a little to see the reaction on the other woman's face when she did. And it made her squirm _a lot_ when she heard a soft moan escape her.

Quickly she pulled away, finding herself panting a little, looking around to see who had noticed the display. Apparently no one had, but when she turned to see Matthew standing nearby she almost screamed, the man's approach had gone almost completely unnoticed.

Brittany didn't seem perturbed in the least, "Hello Matthew," she said pleasantly as she sprinkled small amounts of cinnamon onto her porridge.

"Greetings, highness, the king asked that you accompany me to the library after you have finished eating."

She looked at him quizzically and Santana immediately suspected a trap of some kind, "May I ask why?" the queen inquired.

"He wishes for us to work together to decipher the letter he received."

"The one I couldn't read?" she asked sadly.

"Yes, he wishes to at least know the nature of the letter if not the verbatim content."

With a kind smile she tilted her head, "I wouldn't think he would bother involving me. This is not to say I won't help, but could you not do this on your own?"

His wry smile matched the conspiratorial look in his eyes, "Indeed, I believe I can, but I suspect the letter to contain information only meant for you, and such knowledge may have led me to imply it could only be translated with your help."

Santana felt a little irate at the loss of their private garden time, but the joy on Brittany's face squashed that, it was clear the idea of hearing from her family brought her great happiness.

"Alright!" she said excitedly before her face fell slightly, "Santana can come too, right?"

Matthew glanced over at her with a quizzical face, "I don't think the king would approve a servant other than myself knowing the contents of the letter, regardless of its intended recipient, but if she were out of earshot I would think it acceptable."

It was more than a little irritating to be spoken of as if she wasn't around, but she knew neither of them meant any harm by it. After all, even she was aware of Archibald's grey eyes on them now, and after a moment she became aware that Matthew was staring at her rather intently as well.

"Then I will most certainly accompany you."

With a bow he left and Santana watched him go, wondering what his lingering gaze was about, before Brittany returned to her food to eat with a new purpose. She finished long before Archibald, but since the king was still eating and talking lazily with Matthew she had to make her way to the study without him.

At first Santana worried that they might get lost since in all her time at the castle she had never actually been to the library, but they found it with little difficulty. She was a little astounded to walk inside and see how vast it was, there were books from floor to ceiling, a ceiling that was three levels high. On each floor there were cases full of books on what appeared to be a variety of subjects; Santana could only read simple words, but even she could tell they were about very different things.

Brittany seemed only mildly interested and traveled to the back of the room where there was a space cleared for royalty to sit. The queen seated herself in one of the large, plush chairs by a table and beckoned for Santana to join her, the smaller woman hesitated, because amongst the plush carpet, ornate table, and oversized decorative chairs there did not seem to be a place for a servant to sit.

"Come join me," she said, scooting to the side of her large cushion to make room for her.

"I don't think that's allowed, m'lady," Santana said slowly and cautiously, not knowing who could be lurking in the room, watching them.

"It's perfectly fine, as royalty I am allowed to have a servant to sit at my side to hold my book for me and turn the pages," Brittany said smiling, clearly proud to have found a use for such a privilege.

"You don't have a book."

"Then get one for me."

Her anxieties wearing away, Santana walked to the nearest shelf, picked a book and sat next to Brittany. It was an amazing feeling to be seated next to her with no fear of getting caught, it let her imagine, if just for a moment, that their relationship wasn't a closely guarded secret.

Not knowing how to go about letting Brittany read, she opened the book to the first page and offered it for inspection. The blonde leaned in close to read the words on the page though they were in a clear bold print. She was so close Santana could smell her natural scent and feel her breath across her arms as she held the book steady. It was something she focused on so much she almost yelped when a gentle hand pressed into her side.

"Turn the page."

She did and saw beautiful, ornate drawings of orbs, she stared at it in wonder, wishing she knew what they were for before receiving another light squeeze. Startled once again to be touched so boldly out in the open she turned the page reflexively, focusing more on the warm hand resting on her side and the arm it was connected to stretched across her back. With every gentle nudge Brittany seemed to pull her a little closer until she was practically in the queen's lap.

Santana's blood ran hot from the proximity and the desire to kiss the woman who was so close, however, she knew that this was not the place for such actions, no matter how alone they seemed to be.

After clearing her throat Santana dared to speak, "What is it about?" she inquired.

"The heavens," Brittany replied lightly, "A lot of the words are a bit beyond me, or they are using words that are only for those who study such things."

"Oh," she said, looking at the book with a renewed interest.

Every few pages were full of words and sketches, but occasionally there would be a page covered in a drawing of the night sky, or a giant orb covered in an odd texture. She wished for the first time ever that she could read as well as her masters, because she very much wanted to know what the book was trying to tell her.

"That's a picture of the Blue Divine, it's a place out beyond our world, far away in the sky, it says here it governs the seas and all the life within," Brittany said, having somehow sensed her interest.

Turning the pages she flipped through the book until she saw another picture, "What about this one?"

Her eyes skimmed the words before a smile swept her face, "It's a picture of the Morning Star, it's one of the brightest heavenly bodies. It's said to be the source of love and protects the fate and fortune of women."

Santana frowned a little, "It needs to pay more attention then," she grumbled and Brittany laughed.

"Maybe it only works if you live there."

"You can live on it?"

She looked back down at the page, "It doesn't say you can't, but I guess the problem would be getting there."

"I would like to, I think it would be far enough away from here," she said, indirectly referencing their conversation from that morning.

Lowering her voice, Brittany pressed closer to her, "You would move away with me to the heavens?"

"I would go anywhere with you, mi reina," she replied in a whisper.

Their eyes locked and for a second Santana thought she might not be able to resist the urge to kiss her, but then a noise broke them apart. Looking alarmed she turned to see Matthew approaching with a parchment in his hand, his face neutral, meaning he either hadn't read anything into their closeness or hadn't seen it at all.

"I apologize for my tardiness. Shall we begin?" he asked as he swept into the room.

Santana stood, snapping the book shut and scurrying out of the way, though her position next to Brittany was technically allowed it felt scandalous to be so close in front of others. Quickly she let herself become lost amongst the seemingly endless shelves and eventually came to a corner with a lone, decrepit chair and a window that let light pour in.

Seeing nothing else to do with her time Santana sat in the chair and opened the book again, turning to pages with pictures and marveling at the artwork. Soon she was lost in its pages and began to long to be able to see what the artist saw, to be able to look among the stars at places no horse or ship could reach.

She wasn't sure how long she had spent in the library, the book barely a hand's length from her face, but by the time she saw Matthew appear from behind one of the bookshelves she was on the last few pages.

"Is it time to go?" she asked.

He chuckled, "It was time, some time ago. We couldn't find you, so I escorted the queen to court."

Santana sat up, suddenly alarmed, "Why didn't you call for me?"

"I did a couple of times, but etiquette dictates one not be too loud here. The queen was most distraught, but I gave her my word I would find you and merely escorted her out myself."

"Are you going to have me beaten for not replying?" she asked warily.

He looked offended, "No, why would I?"

"I don't know, Matthew, I can't understand you. You help the king be all that he is yet you are kind to those around you, those two things contradict so severely I find myself confused as to what kind of man you are."

Santana had seen a variety of expressions cross Matthew's face before, but the one she saw now was new. It was sorrow, insult and anger all in one and for a moment she thought he might yell at her, instead he leaned against a nearby bookshelf.

"I would think you of all people would know that there are things one must do to survive in this world. My duty to the king is not who I am, it is merely something that has to be done."

"No. It doesn't. You offer ideas and information that strengthens him. To overthrow the man all you would have to do is remain silent."

"A means to what end?" he asked, his eyes sharp and his voice low, "To have this kingdom be overrun by others who are exactly the same? I have met all the rulers of our enemies from the far corners of this land at one time or another and I regret to inform you that they are all the same. Maybe one doesn't beat his wife, but he does believe in selling children, or another won't sell children but has no qualms in killing them for stealing food when they are starving. It doesn't get better, Archibald isn't the kingdom's problem, the mere existence of kingdoms is the world's problem."

She looked at him with a startled stare, supposing she had been quite mistaken to think a man such as Matthew hadn't thought a great deal about his position and the power he held, "And of these royals you have met how many were as cruel as our king in every way?"

Matthew chuckled, "Not many, but he isn't all you think he is," pausing he looked at the floor, "At least he wasn't in the past. He has always been temperamental and spoiled, but as a ruler it has been changing into something else," his words became softer and softer until they were like wind.

"So stop it, you have the power."

He shook his head, "I have the opportunity and that is not the same thing. Opportunity allows for failure, and failure would mean my death."

"And what is it that keeps you so stubbornly away from even trying?"

A sigh escaped him as he walked over to where she sat and looked down at the book she was reading, "I didn't know you could read."

"I can't, there are pictures," she said, watching him suspiciously.

"I used to study the stars quite extensively when I was a boy," he said, idly turning the pages as he spoke, "That and a great deal of philosophy and in doing so I realized that though I am in a unique situation, I have limitations. I am a man, one with good standing with the king and more control over the castle than any servant has probably ever wielded. However, ignoring all the ways feeding the king faulty advice could cause my demise, and the way that felling him will most likely result in another king of equal moral character as replacement, there is this."

He stopped turning the pages and pointed to a picture rendered in black and white of, what looked like, a grand explosion.

"What is it?" she asked, looking over the intricate image.

"A star. One of the guiding lights of the heavens reaching its end. It's said they shine brightest right before their light goes out."

Santana frowned, "Stars go out?"

"Stars die. Everything dies, Santana, our time is limited and it is best, no matter what your standing, to remember that. In my philosophical studies I learned the phrase _memento mori -_ remember death - and having seen the inevitable mortality of all things, have lived by it ever since. There is only so much that a man can do, and no matter what he chooses one day he will die. There is no reason to court death more than I already am. I do what I can when I can, but I must remember that death is always close at hand."

Santana looked down at the picture of the explosion and frowned, "I understand your fear, and for a while I lived by that as well. But what _I_ learned long ago is that there are things far worse than death, and coming here taught me to stop fearing it so much. Because if fearing it means being unfeeling and uncaring, if it means watching horrors happen around me and doing nothing when the opportunity arises, then my life isn't worth anything. It means I have given up my humanity for the sake of _possibly_ dying later. There is always the danger that some mundane accident could befall me and I might die having preserved my life at the cost of all that I am, only to lose it suddenly in a death that holds no meaning."

A silence fell over them before Santana closed the book and stood to return it to the shelf she had retrieved it from.

Before turning the corner she looked back to Matthew, "Your phrase, remember death, it would be better to be remember life. Remember to live so your death won't be one of regret."

A small smiled graced his lips, "That would make it memento vitae."

"Then memento vitae, Matthew," she said before turning to leave.

* * *

In the time left to her Santana decided to visit the river since it was where she usually went at this time, though under normal circumstances it was to cool down after an afternoon of kissing the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

She was prepared to go and sit at the water's edge and let it run over her feet, but she stopped upon seeing Michael already there, and something in his eyes told her he had been waiting for her.

"Santana, may I speak with you?" he asked in hushed tones.

Feeling immediately wary she stopped in her tracks, "We're speaking now."

"I meant somewhere much more private."

Looking around she saw there were a few other servants going about their daily duties, though none of them seemed to be paying them any mind. She nodded anyway and tried to keep the worry off her face as she followed him when he turned to cross the river.

They walked to the trees until they came to the cliff's edge to sit where he had been with Puck the last time she had come out here. The ocean was particularly rough and the sound of it seemed to drown out all else, but she still heard him when he spoke.

"We're leaving, Lihua and I, at the next hunter's moon."

She looked to him in surprise, wondering if she heard correctly, "You are? How?"

"Not long ago, when I went to the docks, I met a man who knew me, knew my family. He decided to help us, and at the next time he comes to deliver to the castle, he will sneak us away in the night."

"That's… that's wonderful Michael, but may I ask why you're telling me?"

"It is our firm belief that with all the help we have been given over the years to leave without somehow paying that back in some way would be wrong. So I asked Puck to join us as he was the one who kept me in contact with Lihua when we first arrived, and we both felt it right to ask you."

At the news her mouth fell open, and the reality of what he was telling her came crashing down like the waves below. He was asking her to escape, to run away from this place and the impending battle, to escape the constant threat of death… to leave Brittany.

She wanted to, she wanted to leave so badly it was dizzying, but then there was the queen, _her queen_, and the thought of leaving her behind with Archibald was heartbreaking.

"Where would we go?" she asked, her voice weak from the force of the emotions warring within her.

"To my home, across the seas, where no one would find us, and if we were discovered my father would make sure none of us were taken, you have my word."

"I…" she started, with no idea how to finish, she didn't know where to start.

How could she leave Brittany?

How could she stay?

"Puck declined my offer, and I am still in disagreement with his reasons, but they are his own. You, however, have someone you do not wish to leave. I do not understand your relationship with her, but if it's too much to consider leaving her behind I would understand that."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long strip of leather and handing it to her, Santana took it, still too stunned to be able to register what was going on. Clasping her hand in his he looked into her eyes, gaining her attention once more.

"We will leave at the next hunter's moon, the gates are always guarded, but there is another way to his ship." He pointed to an area to her left and her eyes went to it, "Through those trees there is a narrow path that goes down the cliff face and around to a shallow cove near the harbor and when the tide comes in a boat will be able to retrieve us. It is incredibly hard to see, especially at night, and treacherous besides, but it can be done. If you decide you want to go with us, tie this leather around one of the trees by the cliffs and we will wait for you as long as we can."

She looked over at the trees and then down to the leather dangling pointlessly from her fingers. Not knowing what else to do she put it in her pocket and let out a deep breath, trying to still her heart, because it was going wild with all the possibilities, for fear of being caught in this plot, for the thrill of possibly being free, for the pain of having to leave the woman she loved.

* * *

When she met Brittany again she looked beside herself with the desire to hug her but instead took Santana's arm, forcing them to walk close, "I'm glad Matthew found you, I was so worried you were lost in the library."

Santana only nodded, because internally she was already testing the idea, if she could fathom living in a new land without the woman at her side.

"I was looking through that book."

"Then why didn't you answer when we called for you?" she pouted, "Matthew wouldn't let me yell your name, but I got pretty loud."

"I was lost in its pictures."

Brittany stopped walking, pulling Santana short, "What's wrong?" she asked, a worried look on her face.

"Nothing," Santana replied, forcing a smile, "What would you like to do now?" she asked since it was time for Brittany to enjoy her right as a royal and pass her time as she pleased until her evening meal.

"Don't evade the question," she said pleadingly.

"I'm not, everything's okay."

With a final, worried side glance she allowed her face to ease again, "If that's so then I think I would enjoy taking a trip to the garden now."

Santana smiled at her and fought for it to reach her eyes. She loved Brittany so much and wanted to share the world with her, but it had always been her way to balance life or death, this was a weighing between love and freedom, ideas that were both new to her.

Would she be staying true to her philosophy of life by choosing to stay with the woman she loved no matter the cost, or was that an excuse to not take the chance and truly live. Matthew had convinced himself to be content in his sordid position, though not on the basis of love the basic way of thinking was the same.

Both options held the threat of death, so what she had to consider was which would ultimately give her a better life.

Later, in the evening sun, she felt her eyes well up with tears as Brittany tenderly kissed her neck, because she didn't know. Santana didn't have the slightest clue as to what she would do.

* * *

A/N: Getting tough. Still some things to explain, but imma make this short cause it's five in the morning and i have work in two hours...

Thanks for the reviews and please continue to share, it'll get me through the next few days of no sleep cause I'm working 2 16 hr days.


	13. Chapter 13

What was most upsetting to Santana about Michael's proposition was that it seemed to have ruined everything from its mere mention. Every kiss she gave her queen felt false and every 'I love you' felt like a betrayal. She still loved Brittany with all her heart, but every moment that passed with her still considering leaving felt like a harsh biting lie to someone that meant the world to her. And what was more Brittany seemed to sense it; she would say nothing other than to offer her ear should Santana want to share. Which was another point of contention within the smaller woman.

She couldn't decide whether or not to tell Brittany.

At first it seemed a simple thing, since the decision to disappear one day would affect her queen greatly, and it left Santana with an odd sensation in her stomach to think of Brittany waking to find her gone with no explanation. Leaving the blonde alone and abandoned with her hateful brute of a husband.

However.

She did fear what would happen if she told the blonde. What if she were so desperate for Santana not to leave she told someone of the plan? It seemed the definition of unlikely, but then again she would have been just as sure that she wouldn't be brutally beaten as punishment for lying with Sam. Her masters had shown her the depths of cruelty that could be within the kindest person. With Brittany everything inside her felt sure that the same thing wouldn't happen, but still she couldn't bring herself to say anything, because it wasn't just her life on the line. If something she said led to the plan being found out, and Tina and Michael were made to suffer because of it, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

And all of this turmoil was _before_ she considered whether to go or not.

Currently she was using the idea of not leaving as an excuse not to tell Brittany anything when the guilt got to be too much. She would spend hours trying to even identify which option was the coward's way out only to conclude that they were both dangerous and both could lead to death or a life of sadness. Which put the decision back in her lap with the simple question: Do you love her enough to stay?

And when she looked at Brittany and felt her kisses the answer was yes.

But when she would lead the queen to her bedchambers at night to find Archibald skulking in her room the idea of escape trumped any amorous feelings. There were so many negatives to staying: Archibald and his temper, her enslavement, the war that was still brewing overseas and at the borders, and not least of all having to pretend not to see the bruises that were reappearing slowly all over the blonde.

Then Brittany would kiss her and pull her into bed and she would be back to the beginning of her internal loop of thoughts just like that.

It didn't help that Brittany took to sex like she had taken to dancing, the moment she felt she had the hang of things she reversed their positions, taking great pleasure in leading their horizontal dance. The action only served to pull Santana further under her spell and give her time to fret over the upcoming decisions. With Brittany above her she couldn't help but wonder what kind of life she could even live overseas without her lover. What were the odds that she would ever find someone as wonderful again, and what meaning would her life hold if she were to leave the best thing in it behind.

She let her mind war over the issue daily and though the hunter's moon was some time away she knew she needed to come to a conclusion. Whether it be to stay or to go she needed to be sure and either take or leave the chance because she _knew_ it to be the right thing.

The problem was, that after all the internal debate, she wasn't any closer to knowing what to do. This remained the case until one night, after she had put the queen to bed, when she slipped back out of her room and made her way down to the kitchens. From there she entered the seedy, dark room where the castle servants came to forget their woes and found Puck sitting in the far corner, nursing a mug. Suddenly she realized that the potential answer to her problem was the same as it had always been.

The man received the same offer she had, but he rejected the notion right away. Somehow he had managed to immediately think of a reason not to go and she desperately needed to know what it was.

Not wanting to run over and start spouting off about Tina and Michael's escape plan she got a mug of the nearly onyx liquid and sat down next to him. He grunted in acknowledgement and stared over at the only other person in the room, man slumped over his table across the way, snoring loudly. Santana had seen him before in the armory - he was the master smith if her memory was correct.

"He got news his son died fighting alongside the king," Puck said softly before taking another drink.

Santana sat next to him and watched the large man take deep rumbly breaths, "Is there any other news of the war?"

"Nothin' but the news of deaths n' small victories. Th' queen's heard nothin'?"

Santana smiled thinking of her lover's progress with her note, "No, she did receive a letter from her sister, but so far she and Matthew have only been able to translate a greeting and a few minor facts about her other siblings. It makes her happy though."

They were silent for a moment as they emptied their mugs, but soon Santana began to fidget from eagerness to ask the question that was burning a hole in her.

After a while he gave her a sidelong glance, "Somethin' on your mind, love?"

"Why are you staying?" she asked outright.

He chuckled, seeming to know exactly what she was talking about, "They asked you, too, huh?"

"Yes, but I don't know what I should do."

Puck frowned, "I woulda thought you'd be ready to go."

She set her mug down and rubbed her hands together, "There is more to my life here than just me."

He looked her over before a smile graced his face, "You found someone didn't you?"

With a slight blush she nodded, "I did, and I want to leave, but…"

"Tell Michael, I'm sure he'd let her come, I'm not goin' so there's a free spot."

"I've thought of that, but… her leaving may complicate things."

It was clear that confused him, but he nodded regardless, "Did ya ask her what she wants?"

"I don't think I should. I just want to know why you aren't going, and maybe it will be clearer to me."

"Oh, I'm stayin' cause life's good here," he said with a smile.

Santana had to check his face to see if he meant the comment to be humorous, "What?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck, "Look, I hate t' be the one to say this, but freedom ain't all it's said to be. At least not here."

"What would you know of it?" she snapped, irritated that once again he did not provide the answer she wanted.

"More than you'd think. Look, I know things'r tough here, but you got no idea what it's like outside this place."

"And you do?"

"I ran off for a time, when I was younger and started hatin' the place that hated me. Came back on my own after a moon's turn."

"Why?"

"Like I said, it's tough. This place is harsh n'all, but the land is worse. The sun bakes yer skin 'til it peels and it can be days 'til you see water. Then there's th' deep pits that only got mad dogs waiting at the bottom to tear meat from bone. There are bugs that bite n' sting and make folks sick enough to die. I left here n' saw all that."

"You could have traveled with Kurt, he would have protected you."

"He won't and can't, what sorta peace man would he be if he kept takin' servants from the castles he visits. He only takes the ones he finds out on th' trail, or that find him. Been told he'll leave 'em somewhere safe if he has ta go to their old master's home, but he doesn't take 'em from there. 'Sides, he weren't around most times, and I wanted to leave. But it was too hard, so I came home, took my lashes n' learned my lesson."

"But what Michael offered," she whispered, knowing no one could hear them but being cautious nonetheless, "it is different. We wouldn't be freed here, we would be far from the castle."

"Yeah and that's th' other thing. Free to do what?"

Santana frowned at the question, "I don't understand."

"Free to do what? Think about it, what's it that we're supposed to do when we're free? Are we gettin' some land? Maybe some good payin' jobs too? We'd be free n' poor and the best we could do to get some money is exactly what we're doin' now if anyone'd have us not speakin' their tongue an' all. Here I get a bed, food and all the ladies I can chase, new ones comin' all the time with the war brewin'. And even I got someone who makes leavin' a little difficult," he added with a shrug.

As much as it irked her Santana had to concede the sense in that, it wasn't like she knew what Michael's homeland was even like for women. Though she assumed it was a far better situation than the one she was currently in she couldn't help but feel that he was right. At some point she would have to make a living and all she knew was a little of wine making and how to be a silent servant, neither of which were careers she was looking to undertake again.

"But you're only guessing. You don't know what life would be like there."

"I don't, but why risk so much when I'm happy here?"

With a sigh she looked at the ground and kicked her feet aimlessly before a thought occurred to her, "Was it easy? To escape on your own?"

"I wasn't on my own. I had friends who didn't make it back, but yeah, gettin' outta here aint tough, but only cause the royals know how hard it is out there. Gettin' back in is the chore. The only places that're guarded heavy is the harbor n' the front gate."

Santana turned back to her drink and downed it, thinking fast, time was running out for her decision. And he had just the weight behind taking the offered opportunity that much more final.

* * *

After finishing her mug she left to return to her room wishing she had it in her to get completely drunk, however, her head hurt enough without a strong drink to add to it in the morning. When she came to her room she glanced briefly at Brittany's door and quickly decided against entering. She was avoiding having to think on her future and she knew it, but the whole thing was too daunting to deal with always. So instead she slipped quietly into her room and changed into her night clothes.

Santana lay quietly on her bed, sighing in exhaustion as her arms and legs relaxed, and suddenly she was tense as she heard a sharp noise very close by. As she scrambled from her bed she became aware that it was a bell high up in the corner of her room. Shocked that she somehow hadn't seen it there before she suddenly understood what it was for. As the queen currently occupied a room intended for esteemed guests of the crown it was inevitably a way for them to call on their slaves in the night without having to get up.

Brittany had never called on her before, preferring to handle any issues on her own, but she was now, making Santana think something had to be wrong.

Quickly she dashed out of her room and into the queen's, worried over what would have pushed her to ring it, but upon entering she only saw the blonde sitting at the edge of her bed smiling softly.

Santana smiled back, even though it was only reflex, "Why did you call me?"

"I missed you," she said sheepishly.

A very real pain went through her upon hearing that, suddenly it was very clear that leaving without giving Brittany so much as a warning would be incredibly cruel. Maybe even more so than anything Archibald had ever done.

Tentatively, she crossed the room and stood at the queen's side, "Brittany…" she said and faltered, making the other woman's smile vanish.

"What's wrong? Did you not want to see me tonight?"

Instead of answering she fidgeted with her hands not knowing where to place them, Brittany watched her discomfort and worry began to cloud her eyes.

Santana wanted to speak, but now she was afraid again; she could remember Elisa, the sweet, kind woman who had bandaged her hand when she had cut it climbing trees and the terrible, fearful woman who had beaten her to the muscle. She had never known the older woman could have such a vicious side and it was frightening to think she may find Brittany to be the same. She was sure she was being silly about it, but still she couldn't shake the concern that maybe Brittany loved her enough to want to make her stay.

After a few deep breaths she took a step forward and did her best to look into the blue eyes that were now almost boring into her in an attempt to understand her silence.

"I think I'm going to leave," she said.

"Please don't go before you tell me what's troubling you," Brittany pleaded.

"No, I mean the castle. Forever. I have a chance to leave forever at the next hunter's moon."

The words seemed to take a while to sink in but when they did the worry was replaced by something else, what exactly Santana could not tell.

"And you aren't sure you're leaving?" the soft words floated to Santana's ears, making her strain to hear them.

"I don't want to leave you," she admitted and watched as Brittany's mind worked over what she had been told and came to a conclusion Santana couldn't decipher.

"Are you sure you'll be safe?"

"If the escape goes as planned I think I will-"

"Then you should go," she said quickly.

Santana just stared at her for a moment. 'You should go', just like that. Was that all she had to say?

"I thought maybe I should stay."

Brittany frowned, "For me? There is no need. I will miss you, but if you have the chance then it's for the best that you go."

The words stung a bit and she couldn't even place why, this was ideal really. She wanted to go and Brittany approved, yet somehow she had expected… more from the potential estrangement.

"I see, so there is no reason for me to stay?" she asked, trying to see if she truly understood what she was being told.

A small smile graced Brittany's features, "You should be free and live your life as you choose."

Santana felt a little ache in her chest as her leaving was so easily dismissed, it didn't make her decision any easier, because she loved Brittany and still couldn't fathom being away from her. However, it seemed to not matter to the other woman in the least.

Brittany flashed her another smile and opened her arms, which Santana climbed into without thinking. She allowed kisses and affirmations of love that only served to hurt her more as she realized that the woman she loved with all her soul didn't feel the same.

* * *

Santana ate her morning meal with a sluggishness that couldn't go unnoticed, but it did go uncommented on by all at the table. Her melancholy followed her through her morning duties, and by the time the queen made her way to the library Santana was grateful. Because every second she was forced to look at her lover she contemplated the pains of staying in the castle for a woman who was everything to her… and could give her up in the blink of an eye.

Happy for a reprieve she disappeared into the large forest of books and found a new corner to retreat to, silently hoping that once again she would be hidden and Matthew would escort Brittany to court.

She knew it was sad of her to still consider staying after Brittany had dismissed her so easily, but she couldn't imagine life without the blonde. It was impossible to think of someone she could love half as much. As unhappy as she was with her plight, it may be the best she could hope for.

The infinite silence that filled the large room allowed her to bounce those thoughts around some more, to weigh pros and cons and to try and picture her life in a far away land without the woman she loved. And after a time she felt like it was manageable, that the notion wasn't as impossible as she had first thought. But still, something inside pulled at her to stay.

Irritated, she rose to find a book to look at while the time passed when Brittany cut her off, appearing before her like magic and making her heart jump into her throat.

"M'lady," she mumbled over the pounding in her chest.

"Come, sit with me," Brittany said and Santana could see she held a book in her hands.

"Should I not take you to court?"

The queen shook her head, "Matthew and I finished the note early, there is still some time left before I have to go."

With that she turned and returned to her large, lush seat and Santana followed, feeling odd. Brittany had shared every bit of information she could on that letter and now she seemed to not even care about its contents, or at least with sharing them.

When they sat in their usual positions Santana opened the book that seemed to be about farming, or it was a children's story about animals, she couldn't tell.

"What did the letter say?" she asked quietly, fearing that a wandering servant may have been lurking in the shadows to hear her formality with the queen.

Brittany's eyes skimmed the page before she stopped and looked at her hands, "Other than the tidings at the beginning? My father's ill and I have lost three of my sisters."

"In the fighting?" Santana asked worriedly.

"No, to childbirth and sickness, it is either a transfer of their ailment that has made my father sick or severe grief from the loss of his children. Though the latter is unlikely; he never cared for us much, but it would be nice to think so for a time."

A small squeeze prompted Santana to turn the page, "But the rest of your family is faring well, right?"

"Yes, the bad news was softened by starting with good," Brittany replied distractedly.

Santana looked down at the book which was walls of text with no pictures, "What is this about?"

"I don't know," she replied and her voice sounded rather stricken.

Worried, Santana looked to her to find tears streaming down Brittany's face as she stared, unseeing, at the book before her. Unable to stop herself Santana turned and hugged her tightly.

"Your father will be fine."

For some reason that made the blonde laugh, but she returned the hug, burying her face into Santana's shoulder. The hug almost crushed the air out of her, but she endured it without a single complaint, because it was the best she could do for her. Santana wanted desperately to be someone who could give the other woman her family back, they were a world away, some sick, some dead. Brittany had never spoken much of them, but it was clear that her father's situation had forced her to remember relationships lost.

Santana wrapped her arms around her queen and let her cry her despair out, wishing she hadn't been so inquisitive. Of course Brittany hadn't wanted to share what she had read, and as one who had an endless line of things she wanted to avoid dwelling on she regretted thinking that it had been about not caring enough to talk.

Tears flowed until Santana looked like someone had poured a bucket of water on her shoulder. The brunette would have let her queen cry until she was completely ready to stop, but unfortunately she could see that the sun was continuing its journey across the sky.

Tentatively, she got Brittany to stand and brought her back to her bedroom where she fetched a washbasin and made her face over to look like she had never shed a tear. When she had finished she accompanied the composed ruler to her daily duties and as they parted she gave the queen an encouraging hand squeeze. The blonde looked back at her with sad eyes and smiled, and once again Santana didn't know how she could leave her.

* * *

Though Brittany had seemed rather unmoved by Santana's possible departure she had clearly understood that they wouldn't see each other any longer and as such had Santana at every available moment. Her bath time was never about getting clean anymore and their quiet time in the garden sometimes went well beyond sweet kisses and gentle touches that could be halted quickly at another's approach.

In the privacy of the queen's room their love making became more tender, something Santana found exhilarating but mostly confusing, because her queen was somehow making the decision so much more difficult. Every touch seemed to pull her a little closer to the woman she was becoming more and more sure she would never see again. And with each passing day the idea leaving became more plausible _and_ difficult. The hunter's moon loomed closer and Santana still kept the strip of leather under her bed, not knowing what to do with it.

At least she didn't until the awaited time was several days away.

Night had fallen, the queen had been laid to rest and Santana had taken her meal and bath. Yet neither woman was sleeping. As was now routine, in the dark of the night, Santana was to be found in Brittany's bed, trying to stifle sounds of pleasure as her queen easily worked her into a frenzy.

It had been Santana's thought that she had wanted to leave, that Brittany had been a wonderful person to meet and it was time to keep living. However, in the dark of the room, as she lay shuddering beneath a woman who risked everything to be with her, she found that want waning.

And when Brittany looked at her with love filling her gaze and said, "No matter where you go, you'll always have my heart," it left entirely.

Now, knowing she should be leaving, she found it harder than ever to go, because that hadn't been the look of someone who didn't care. Her queen brought them to the peak of pleasure with practiced ease, capturing Santana's lips to keep them both quiet. And as coherence returned Santana couldn't help but speak her deepest desire into the warm air between them.

"Come with me," she said quietly.

Brittany's bright eyes found hers in the low light of the room and Santana could see her smiling softly down at her.

"I wish I could," she replied, brushing Santana's hair aside and placing tender kisses on her temple.

"You can," Santana urged, wanting her to come so badly she could barely word the request, "You can come with me."

She had no idea how Tina and Michael would react to her trying to smuggle the queen out of the castle as well, but at the moment she needed nothing more than for her to agree. From there she would take Brittany away on her own if she had to, dangerous beasts and baking sun be damned.

Sorrow seemed to flood Brittany's face as she kissed her again, "I can't go with you Santana, Artie wouldn't let me leave, you have a better chance without me."

Shaking her head she tried to gather her thoughts better, "But you said yourself he wishes you would just disappear and we can do that."

"Santana…" Brittany said and tears welled in her eyes, "It's different now."

Despair crept in and settled on her chest and on some level Santana knew she was not going to win this, "Because of the war?"

"Santana-"

"Brittany!" she cut off, angry that her queen's tears had prompted her own eyes to water, "I'm offering you freedom, of this castle, of Archibald - just say yes. We will leave here and I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise. I will get you out of here no matter what."

The blonde smiled a sad smile, "Even so I will remain here."

"You can't!" she barked as loud as she dared, tears flowing freely, "You can't, because if you stay here he'll kill you. If not on purpose then by accident during one of his tantrums, but it will happen. I can't leave you here for that, just come with me!" Santana begged, hugging Brittany tightly to her wishing there was some way she could dispel the stubbornness of the woman in her arms.

"He would chase us 'til the ends of the earth and kill you to spite me."

"He wouldn't care!"

"I told you, it's different now," she said again, sounding even more miserable and weary.

"What's changed?"

"I'm pregnant."

The words fell between them ending all conversation and for a heartbeat Santana didn't understand what she had been told. When the words made sense she fought her way out from beneath her lover, scrambling to her feet and then to the far wall. Her eyes rested on Brittany's stomach as if there was something to be seen, but there was no evidence of a child within her as of yet.

"How long have you known?" she asked, surprising herself with how angry her voice sounded.

"Two days ago," Brittany replied sadly.

Santana looked at the floor, trying to pull herself together, she knew it wasn't Brittany's fault, that it hadn't been her choice, but somehow this felt like a betrayal regardless. Desperate for something to do she grabbed her night clothes and pulled them on so hard they almost ripped from her forcefulness.

"Does the king know?" When the queen shook her head Santana's spirits rose slightly, "Then there is still time to rid yourself of it."

Brittany's expression quickly changed from sad to wounded, "I couldn't do that."

"Why not? I know who could help-"

"I'm not killing my baby," she said flatly.

"It's not a baby, it isn't even a living thing yet!"

"Of course it is, otherwise you wouldn't suggest killing it."

Santana growled in frustration and placed the heels of her hands over her eyes, "Fine, then come anyway, with the baby."

"I already told you I can't. Artie doesn't know but my healers do, I asked for time to tell him on my own. If I don't tell him soon they will and he won't let me leave with his heir. Furthermore, my father is sick, if he dies a son will be the only claim he could hope to have over my land meaning this child is something he and his father need. I will not escape this place and anyone who tries to give me sanctuary will be named an enemy of both lands near and far. I cannot go with you, Santana."

The queen's words came out clear and concise as if it had been insulting for her to assume she would ever consider ridding herself of her pregnancy or escaping with the child. Never had Santana felt more hopeless and abandoned.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, feeling lost and drained of all emotion, "About the baby?"

Brittany's face returned to looking sorrowful, "You are leaving at the hunter's moon which isn't long from now. I thought maybe you would be gone before you had to know. It isn't something I ever wanted to have to tell you," she added as she wiped the tears from her face.

Santana stared at the woman as if she had never seen her before.

She wouldn't leave, she wouldn't lose the child, she wouldn't try to run away despite it and most importantly she seemed not to care how Santana felt about any of her decisions.

It was too much, but at least it helped her make up her mind.

Furious with herself for letting Brittany be someone who could hurt her so deeply she returned to her room and retrieved the leather from under her bed. With determined, yet cautious, steps she left the castle and reached the cliffs where she tied the strip tightly to one of the trees.

* * *

When the sun rose Santana found herself in a much improved mood. As much as everything hurt, as betrayed and unwanted as she was feeling, it was a comfort to know that in a few days she would be rid of all that currently ailed her.

Her bath and morning meal passed in peace and by the time she went to retrieve the queen she found she was able to ignore the wrenching pain in her chest, because she knew it would only be a short time before seeing the other woman was no longer a problem. She woke the blonde gently by shaking her arm and proceeded to carry out her morning duties with no attempts at anything else. When Brittany was fully awake she gave Santana a sorrowful look but stood and attempted to give her a hug.

An embrace Santana fully rejected.

She knew the look that would be on Brittany's face, but she could take it, because soon she wouldn't have to see that face any longer. When the rest of the queen's servants entered, Brittany wisely did not attempt to reach for Santana again, however, the sorrowful looks that were sent her way were not missed by the smaller woman.

While Brittany ate Santana stood rigidly in her place, offering not a single comforting glance. And when they reached the gardens she quite stubbornly refused to sit anywhere but next to the pond. Brittany attempted to sit at her side, but the notion was still too unbearable for Santana and she moved away. She couldn't stomach the thought of Brittany carrying Archibald's child or the fact that the woman seemed content to stick around and raise the brat.

She did still see where Brittany was right and she could easily see the inherent danger in trying to leave with the queen. How it would put Tina and Michael in so much more danger, how it hadn't even warned them of her potential plan and how even if others agreed to take her along it would start a war between Michael's father and the whole of the Abrams Kingdom.

Unfortunately, none of that stopped the slow feeling of a knife being driven into her sides over and over. To her, leaving would be a small blessing, because she needed forget everything and with Brittany so determined to keep her child there was no way it was going to happen while still at the castle. So she did not relent in public or private, making sure to address her master as formally as possible, though every time she did it seemed to almost drive the blonde to tears.

For her part Brittany said nothing, she seemed to understand Santana's anger and accept it as a natural reaction, and even that upset the brunette. She wanted some sign that their relationship meant something, but as the days passed no such thing happened. The best she ever got was the queen trying to hug or kiss her on a daily basis, offers Santana always declined. Everything from the innocent linking of arms in a lonely hallway to intimate touches in the bathing room, nothing was anything more than rigid politeness.

And with every passing day she could tell Brittany was becoming more and more frustrated with their estrangement. She seemed determined to have her close even though Santana was making it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with her. Because her touch hurt, it made her think every cutting thought all at once and they were worse than anything she had ever known. It was cruel to both of them to deny her, as Santana despite all else still craved her touch and Brittany clearly wanted contact, but she knew to give in to the woman would be to damn herself. If she were to have any chance of leaving there was no way she could continue to be close to the blonde, she had to keep her at an arm's length and hold on to the resentment that roiled within her no matter how unfair it was that it be pointed at Brittany.

By the final day Santana managed to harden herself completely to Brittany's advances, because soon she would be whisked away from it all. It was the last day she had to pretend the queen's distress didn't upset her immensely, and that she could do. Suppressing her feelings for days on end was impossible, she had almost driven herself mad in the attempt to resist Brittany, but this she could manage, as it was only for a short while.

She made it past their morning greeting, even though Brittany tried repeatedly to make contact in some small capacity, she made it past her morning meal where the queen requested cinnamon again and Santana merely pushed the bowl closer and backed away. During her bath Brittany practically had to bathe herself and when they walked together down the hall for the last time Santana nearly stumbled with the force of pulling her arm from Brittany's grasp.

In the privacy of her room Santana felt the nervousness, relief and sorrow of their last moments together, and as much as she wanted a long and loving farewell she knew it couldn't be. She needed to protect herself, she needed to be ready to leave all she held dear behind, it wasn't the first time it had happened in her life and she felt certain it wouldn't be the last.

Even Sam had gotten one final hug, though.

As tempting as it was to give in and embrace the other woman as she helped her change she didn't, and instead focused on the fact that soon Brittany would be a mother to a monster's child. One she would be expected to look over for the remainder of her life and that wretched feeling made her able to finish her work and turn away.

To leave forever and never see the woman who had such a hold on her.

But of course it wouldn't be that easy.

"Tonight is the hunter's moon," Brittany said in a timid voice.

Santana wanted to be a person who would be strong enough not to respond, but she wasn't, "Yes."

"Do you have nothing more to say to me?" she asked and Santana could almost feel her pain and it angered her.

"What else is there? I tell you I'm leaving and you tell me to go, I ask you to come with me and you tell me no, because you'd rather have that man's evil spawn. You clearly don't care for me the way I do for you, so I think it best if neither of us say anything."

To her surprise Brittany rose from her bed slowly with a dark glower on her face, "Is that what you believe? Is that what you _really_ believe?"

Not wanting to be pulled further into the oncoming debate Santana backed towards the door, "Don't take offense, I meant none, it's only that royals and slaves clearly think on relationships differently. Or maybe it's because we are both women, I'm not sure."

The taller woman stepped closer still watching Santana as if she couldn't believe the sight of her, "You think me that void of emotion?"

"Clearly you have emotions, if nothing else you cried over your father's ailment," she said with a dismissive shrug that hid the nervousness she felt at Brittany's approach, "I must go now."

With that she attempted to open the door but was surprised to find it shoved closed again by Brittany who leaned against it, glaring hotly at her. It was the first time they had been so close in many days and Santana wished she had been better prepared for the gentle scent of the queen that washed over her, or to defend against the sight of sudden, unchecked tears falling from her eyes.

"You think I was crying over my father? The man who sold me for a crown he can never wear? Do you truly think that was what had me distressed? Or did it ever occur to you that it might be because the person whom I love most in the world had recently told me she was planning to leave forever," Brittany growled.

Startled, Santana tried to back up but found she was pinned against the door, "You told me to go," she said softly, too flustered to make a more steadfast reply.

"Because I want you to be free, I want you to have all the things you desire and can never have here. How could I ever expect you to do that with me blubbering the moment you tell me you have a chance to go."

"But the baby…" it hadn't even been a real reply, merely an errant thought that slipped out as she made the connections, because of course Brittany had pretended she would be okay, it was what she did best.

"Santana, I don't want to rid myself of this child, it hasn't done anything to anyone and a knight protects women and children. So I will protect it and I will protect you, I'll stand aside and let you free, but I won't let you go thinking for one moment that I don't love you as you love me. If you must know, the thought of you leaving hurts so much I can't breathe, it's like drowning and it's the worst feeling I've ever had. I look at you and see my only chance at real happiness and then I remember you're going away to leave me with my fate and it makes me want to scream."

The intensity in her voice took Santana aback, she had never seen Brittany so deathly serious and she had no idea how to respond, "I thought-"

"If you thought for even a heartbeat that I didn't care about you leaving then you were not thinking at all. I want you to stay with me forever, consequences be damned. I love you enough to want to alert the guards and make you stay, but it's not right, you should be free. So I want you to go and be happy, and though the thought of you in the arms of another kills me I want that for you. I want you to find someone to love, but not just whoever will have you, find a woman who loves you with everything she is, because that's what you deserve."

In the dark of the room, pinned against the door, Santana stood completely speechless as Brittany gave her a tear stained kiss that she did nothing to stop. It was a kiss she couldn't help but return and it was filled with all the passion, love and regret that she had refused them sharing before.

When they parted she immediately felt conflicted, leaving suddenly held no appeal and she was frozen in place. It was quite clear to her now that Brittany had once again ignored her own pains to try and better her life and Santana loved her intensely for it.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, hoping Brittany understood all the ways she meant it.

A teary smile spread on the queen's face, "I'm sorry I can't be in a far away land, waiting to meet you for the first time so we can start the rest of our lives together."

"I have to go," Santana said, more as a plea to herself and her wavering resolve than to Brittany.

"I know, and you should," she replied, kissing her again swiftly before pulling them both forward and opening the door, "So go." And with that she was given a gentle push into the hall.

The sound of the door closing snapped Santana out of her stupor and let her realize that it was honestly time for her to be going. Through the hall windows she could see the sun had set and the moon was shining brightly behind a thick veil of clouds. Worried that she may get Tina and Michael caught from her tardiness she dashed into her room to retrieve the tattered shirt from the vineyard, almost laughing at the fact that it was the only thing in the castle she owned.

Quickly she tied it around her waist and turned to her door, ready to leave Castle Abrams for good. But when she stepped into the hallway she saw the queen's door and made the mistake of thinking of her. She had coated herself in resentment and hatred to be able to make the decision she had, but now, knowing the truth of the matter, how could she go? What kind of life could she lead, even if she did find another woman to love her? How could she love that person like she had her queen? She couldn't imagine having the same feelings for another and moreover didn't want to.

To leave would be to gain her freedom, but to lose the best thing that could or would ever happen to her. Michael had made her reflect on how lucky she was to have ever found what she had. Then again she had never in her wildest dreams suspected that she would leave the Evans' vineyard to find the love of her life, maybe she didn't even know true love yet. Maybe that person was waiting for her beyond the sea.

Time marched on and she knew she couldn't simply stand in the royal's hall indecisively. She needed to make a choice, and fast.

And after several heart wrenching moments, Santana took off as fast as she could for the cliff's edge.

* * *

A/N: Bet you thought something was going to be written here...


	14. Chapter 14

Santana ran with a speed and fervor she hadn't used since she had first arrived and sprinted from place to place in the hopes of never being late. There was the added danger of being caught dashing through the castle after hours, but as a royal's servant there were several excuses that could get her past most guards as long as they involved the queen.

Thankfully she didn't need any of them as she was able to avoid running into anyone and arrived at the river with such momentum she jumped clear over the embankment in one leap. Her lungs hurt from the effort, but soon she came to the clearing and was relieved to see Michael and Tina standing together, watching her with rapt attention, clearly eager to make out her identity.

Seeing them, she came to a slow trot and stopped in front of Michael, knowing she needed to catch her breath before she spoke. Seeing that she had something to say, he waited, though it was clear he was eager to move on. While she allowed the air to flow through her lungs she saw that they had packed as lightly as she had, which made sense since a portion of their plan involved moving through water.

"We thought you might be longer, but now that you're here we should leave," Tina urged, already moving towards the woods.

Santana stood clutching the pain in her side and coughed out, "I can't go."

Tina looked confused, but Michael seemed to understand immediately, "Are you sure?" he asked.

"I couldn't have you two waiting for me any longer than need be, I only came to tell you to go."

Taking a step forward, Michael was close enough for her to catch the smell of garlic and spicing salts that always seemed to cling to him, "You are aware this is likely your only and best chance? I do not want to leave you to regret your decision when the sun rises."

She shook her head, "I realized that if I leave someone I love so dearly in this place, I don't deserve love at all. If I leave her then I clearly did not understand what it even meant to begin with."

He nodded, "If you think it wise."

"I don't. I know it will not be easy and for me will most likely not end well, but at the very least it is a decision I know I can live with. For however long that may be."

Tina, clearly not understanding, stepped forward, "What are you talking about? Come with us, there is nothing worth staying for."

She mustered a smile, "For me there is."

The other woman's frustration was evident and she looked to Michael for answers, but he only returned her smile, "Then we will take our leave, but you will not be forgotten."

Santana extended her hand and Michael chuckled, brushing it away and lifting her off the ground in a tight hug, "I wish you both the best of luck," he said before setting her down again.

Tina approached her like she were some new sort of specimen to be approached with caution, "You and Puck are mysteries that I don't think I am capable of working out. But if to stay is your wish, then I too wish you all the joy that is to be found here," she said, clearly still miffed as she gave Santana a strong hug.

She returned it and gave the couple one final, lingering glance before she turned and raced back to her prison, back to her own personal hell that held her only salvation. Returning the way she had come, at a much more reasonable and steady pace, she made good time back to her room, and was quite set on going to Brittany's first to let her know that she hadn't left. However, before she could take a single step towards the ornate door she saw the shadow of a monstrous beast ambling up the hallway.

She froze as she tried to make out the form only to realize, as the shadow turned, that it belonged to Azimio. The man was lumbering up the hall, his large sword giving his hulking frame a frightful visage, and seeing it was only him she wanted to relax. There was no reason she couldn't go into her mistress' room, for all he knew she had been called. Furthermore, he was an understeward now and she no longer had to answer to him as a servant of the queen. However, as the candlelight danced and he came closer that all seemed not to matter, something inside her was warning her not to be seen. Though it was clear there was no one else with him something about his movements made her nervous, it made her feel like prey waiting to be spotted. He was out in the royal's halls alone late at night with no purpose to his stride, just slow steps that allowed her to think carefully before she made a move.

The closer he got the more alarmed she became and she decided that Azimio was not the kind of man she wanted finding her out of her quarters on a hunter's moon. The moon said to give beasts their strength and aid them on the hunt. At the moment she believed that tale applied to him as somehow his shadow made him seem like something far more sinister, and she dashed quickly and quietly into her room. Once inside she feared that she may have overreacted to his presence, her near escape earlier making her senses heightened, however, as she stood by the door she heard him approach and a wash of fear rose in her as his feet stopped just on the other side.

She had no idea what he might want, if he planned to act as past masters had and force himself on her or if he wished to merely make sure she was where she was supposed to be. Either way his presence was unusual and with his large feet blocking the small amount of light from the hall her room went completely dark as she stood with bated breath. It occurred to her to hurry into bed, but again something inside her was warning her to stay still and silent. Even her breathing felt too loud, so she slowed it until even she was unable to detect the sound.

For a long moment he stood there, equally silent, every passing moment making Santana's heart beat faster. And then, for no discernible reason, he walked on.

It was some time after he left that she allowed herself to breathe normally and sank to the floor. There had been no reason for her to fear him, yet something within her did and she had learned to trust her instincts long ago. Azimio was up to something, and she had no desire to find out what.

She wanted to see Brittany again, but after her near encounter she found it best to wait until morning.

* * *

Before the sun rose, Santana was back to her regular routine, she was up and at the river before sunlight touched the castle and afterwards she went to receive the same gruel that passed as food. It was with great pleasure that she saw Michael and Tina's places empty and she found that the thought of them living happily, away from their long time prison, cheered her almost as much as the thought of seeing Brittany again.

Puck seemed rather surprised to see her still around and sat next to her, giving a wide smile and a knowing nudge, "That must be one fine lady to keep you here," he whispered to her softly.

Santana couldn't help but smile back, "She is."

Matthew appeared shortly afterwards and his eyes went to the space that, by now, usually held Michael or Tina. She had no idea if they had invited him or not, but he seemed nothing more than mildly surprised.

"They left?" he asked quietly.

Puck gave a small nod and Santana remained still as she wasn't sure how smart it was to give someone so close to Archibald that information.

Matthew looked casually disinterested as he asked, "How?"

"By sea," Puck supplied quickly.

Santana eyed Matthew suspiciously wondering what he planned to do with that knowledge, but he gave no outward sign of his intent. He only finished his food quickly and left without further comment, leaving Puck and Santana alone to do the same. Following his lead, she finished her food and eagerly returned to her queen's room. Suddenly it felt like the little time that had passed between them seeing each other was too much and she practically sprinted to her duty.

She found Brittany wrapped completely in her blankets and she wouldn't wake, not even when Santana managed to pull them back. But when she looked down on the pale face she found that she regretted their temporary separation even more. It was clear that she had hidden in her covers to cry out her loss, and Santana wished she could have ended her sorrows the previous night.

Gently she shook the queen awake and when blue eyes opened she could see how red and puffy they were. Those same eyes blinked at her several times as they tried to take her in and seemed to disbelieve what they saw.

"Santana?" she asked, her voice disbelieving and raw from crying.

"Yes, mi reina, it's me," Santana replied, smiling broadly, even though she knew that staying with the woman before her was a mountain of hardships that was only getting steeper.

Brittany merely stared at her in wonder for a moment as if she were doubting her own eyes, but then Santana was suddenly yanked into the most powerful hug she'd ever felt.

"You should have gone," Brittany said, holding her so tightly she could barely breath, "You should be far from here and getting farther." She chocked out and Santana hugged her back, already knowing her next words before she said them, "But I am so happy you are still here with me."

"I couldn't leave you," she said gently, smoothing her ruffled hair.

The blonde pulled her back and looked at her as if she just needed to be sure one final time that the person in front of her was real, "I cried all night, missing you and praying you make it away safely, at the same time wishing I had begged you to stay, because I wanted it so very badly," she admitted, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

Wiping them away, Santana gave her a tender kiss, "I didn't mean to leave you in this way all night."

Brittany shook her head, not wanting to hear apologies or to dwell on the past any longer, she clearly only wanted to kiss her and that's what she did. She pulled Santana close and kissed her deeply; it was long and lingering, leaving the smaller woman panting the moment it broke, but the queen had clearly not had enough. The moment they were apart Brittany covered her jaw and neck with greedy kisses and only when she had finished that task did she take Santana's lips again. They stayed that way in each other's arms far past the time Santana knew she needed to have the queen ready to be dressed, but neither of them seemed to care. And when there was the tentative knock on the door that signaled that the other servants had arrived the queen promptly gave them the order to wait, and turned back to give Santana a kiss that made her forget everything else in the world.

But a time later there was a much heavier knock and they both knew they had put the world on hold as long as it could be. Santana opened the door to see Beiste standing there looking confused at the delay, but she did not comment. The healer and the other waiting servants filed in to tend to their duties and the ones Santana had neglected.

Standing nearby she watched them all work but Beiste in particular, she watched the large woman check over Brittany's body and investigate the small bruises along her arms before her hand went to feel her belly and Santana had to clench her teeth. She hadn't forgotten the child, not even for an instant, it would never sit right with her and she knew the coming time would be the most difficult of her life, however, she knew when she stayed that this was her fate. It was something that she had to accept, but by no means was she in the mood to celebrate it.

The large woman asked Brittany questions and used most of the tools in her medical kit to figure out something, but Santana never found out what, because before Beiste could say a word Archibald stormed in the room.

"Where is she! Where is Tina?" he roared, and it took a long moment for Santana to realize the king was addressing her.

With a look of worry she glanced at Brittany who seemed completely lost and when she looked back she saw Matthew standing a few paces behind. She wanted to think the best of the other man, but she immediately felt betrayed by him; how else could the king have know she knew anything about his missing servant?

"I don't know, m'lord," she answered quickly.

"Sire, I doubt she has anything to do with it or she would be gone as well, don't you think?" Matthew said quietly.

The king pondered those words before he frowned deeply, "If one of you knows where she is you will be handsomely rewarded for the information," he said in a kind voice. One that had Santana suspecting that his idea of 'handsomely rewarded' was lashings for not having freely offered up the information.

When the room offered no response his angry eyes fell on Beiste, "And why are you still here? She should have been ready some time ago!" he snapped.

To her surprise Beiste opened her mouth and told a complete lie, "It's my fault, I took more time n' examining her than usual, kept anyone from workin' on her 'til now."

"Then finish your work and pay Azimio a visit!" he spat.

Santana's eyes widened in shock at his command and so did Brittany's, the large woman merely nodded and returned to her work as if he had merely asked her to fetch him water later.

Her response clearly left the king unsatisfied from his rage so when Brittany spoke up she feared for her.

"Artie, she has to take more time, please don't punish her for doing as she is ordered."

Clearly seeing this as the fight he had been looking for, he took a step forward, "And who ordered her to do that?"

"I did, she's making sure the baby is in good health," those words silenced the room like nothing had since Archibald's intrusion.

"You are with child?" he asked, sounding more surprised than anything else.

"I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to be as sure as I could before then. That's why Beiste took so long, please don't punish her for it."

Archibald waved his hand dismissively, "Fine, you're pardoned," he said to the bullish woman, "When can you tell me if I'm having a son?"

"That isn't to be known until the child is born, sire," Beiste said, clearly not liking having to continue to talk to him.

The king seemed to stir the idea around in his mind before sighing, "If there is no way to know then carry on, be sure it is in the best of health to ensure I do not have a boy as soft in the head as his mother." Before Santana's impulsive nature could push her to reply to that, Archibald turned to Matthew, "I want you to spread the word of my offer through the whole castle in regards to Tina. Tell them whatever you have to and get one of the simpletons to talk. Also form a search brigade, use the dogs."

Matthew bowed, "That is not a problem, sire, may I suggest you begin your search in the plains? It is the most obvious choice for one who does not know our land as we do, she probably made the mistake of traveling into that wasteland thinking there was respite nearby."

Archibald snorted, "The woman was always a bit simple, make it so." Turning back to the room in general he said, "Carry on and have her down to the dining hall as soon as you can."

He left, closing the door behind him and causing everyone inside to let out a breath of relief, the other servants returned to their usual duties of making Brittany up and combing her hair while the rest chose her clothing and prepared to put it on her.

Santana once more only watched, thinking that, though it had been quite tense and unwanted, the king's visit may have been a good thing. Maybe with his wife carrying an heir she wouldn't have to look at a child growing within Brittany as well as fresh bruises as a daily occurrence. She also felt reassured that it had been Matthew's initial goal to throw the king as far off the trail of his friends as possible. Though it had seemed unlikely mere moments before, she found she trusted Matthew quite a bit more than she ever thought she could.

* * *

The morning meal passed awkwardly as it was clear Archibald was not taking to the loss of his personal play thing well. Azimio had recently brought it to his attention that Michael had escaped as well and the news that Tina had gotten away with her husband seemed to sour his mood even more.

If Santana hadn't already hated him so much she would have started with the fact that the man let the happiness of a woman he had abused sour the news of his wife carrying their first child.

Down the table she could see Matthew prattling on and she knew he was trying to distract the king, to keep him from focusing on what he didn't have. Santana didn't think there were enough words in all the world to do that, but she was grateful for his effort.

Brittany had spent the morning since their reunion in relative silence, neither attempting to touch nor look at Santana in a flirtatious way, but she had learned long ago that only happened when all of her affections were being saved for one specific moment. And her suspicions were confirmed when she found herself kissing her queen underneath their tree before she had barely laid the blanket out. Like that morning, they kissed until air was mandatory and only broke long enough to go again, though this time they were both far more bold with where their hands went. Santana found she was most content with her decision to stay when she had her fingers laced in blonde hair, kissing her queen deeply and eagerly, and she would have been content to be lost in her for as long as they were allowed.

But she couldn't be, because a shiver ran up her spine that had nothing to do with the way her lover was touching her and she knew something was wrong.

Opening her eyes she expected to see someone hovering over them, but the area was clear, yet her instincts were still telling her to stop, so despite her raging desires she did. She sat up, leaving Brittany to look at her with a forlorn and confused expression. Quickly she straightened her clothes and hair as best she could, doing the same for Brittany who seemed to sense her urgency. However, as they sat, looking more or less unruffled, nothing stirred in the cool morning air, not a sound reached their ears as they waited with bated breath.

Brittany was clearly listening hard, her eyes focused ahead of her, but it was Santana who saw Azimio slide silently from beside the tree. It filled her with an immediate terror as the man had moved without making a sound in full armor with his sword strapped loosely to his back, his dark eyes fixed on them and narrowed before he spoke.

"De king requests an audience," he said in a voice so deep and accented Santana had to listen to every word slowly in her head before she understood.

"Why has he sent an understeward?" Brittany asked.

Knowing she wasn't one concerned with titles Santana suspected this was her way of asking why he was lurking around in the royal gardens as opposed to someone who made their presence known, like Matthew.

"He did not say, he only called for you," Azimio said, his expression never changing.

Looking at the man, Santana suddenly understood why Archibald had chosen Karofsky to guard him. The man looked like he would survive any fight, but he also looked like a man who would kill a comrade for sport.

"Come then, Santana," Brittany said as she rose with the smaller woman's help.

Santana moved to follow her queen when a heavy hand clapped on her shoulder and she thought she might topple from the weight of it.

"She was not called," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing at his captive as if she had presumed to follow on her own.

Brittany rounded on him and Santana was impressed by her bravado and also worried about her safety as the man seemed as likely to pull out his sword and start swinging at her as talking.

"You release her this instant!" she snapped and to Santana's surprise the meaty hand fell from her shoulder, "She is a servant brought for the specific purpose of tending to my needs, especially in regards to my pregnancy, so where I go, she goes. For someone to call me is for them to call her as well and I will not have you putting hands on her as she is not in your charge!"

He blinked at her slowly before nodding and walking away with that same silent shuffle. They both watched him go, wondering why he had been sent and knowing that the gardens were no longer safe for them.

* * *

As it so happened, what the king wanted was to bring Brittany into the council room for the first time as a display of sorts. From what she could make out through his long, rambling speech was that the elders had begun again, in earnest, to question his manhood and leadership due to his continued lack of an heir. He rambled on about his wife's inadequacies and inability to produce a child and how they had been fixed by a healer Santana had never heard of. She had to assume he had referred to someone who was male as he did not like Beiste or anyone of her gender receiving due credit for anything.

Archibald was almost ecstatic to see Santana accompany the queen as she had been a gift meant for such an occasion, and he proceeded on and on in that manner. As if the child's birth would solve all the kingdom's problems.

Santana looked around the room and noted Karofsky and Matthew waiting patiently out of sight and then all of the old men seated in a semicircle around the room, facing the one large chair that belonged to their ruler, and the lesser one that had been brought out for the queen to sit in while he rambled on. They all looked half dead, or completely so, except for Lord Jacob who was fidgeting at the far back corner. Smiling to herself, she wondered if that was the man Puck had spoken of, who kept a woman hidden nearby to make the meetings more bearable.

All the wizened faces focused on Archibald's grand speech and when he had finished no one moved except an incredibly old man in the front row who cleared his throat before speaking in a low, wispy voice.

"Archibald, disregarding how, eh, unusual it is to bring your queen, let alone her servant to this place, what have you proven?"

It pleased Santana a little to see that they had found the same flaw in his reasoning that she had.

The king glared at the old man like he planned to hit him, "What have I proven? That the kingdom's lineage is safe."

"Safe how?" the same man asked, his small voice quavering with the effort of speaking louder, "The child is not yet born and even if it survives the entire term it may be a girl and then what, my liege? Shall we wait here another decade for you to be able to produce another?"

Archibald's face went frightfully red, "You can hardly blame me for her lack of fertility!"

The old man waved his hand dismissively, "Even so, you have done nothing to quell the riots on the western border and all we receive on a daily basis is word that the north and south will follow. Your father has made great strides overseas while his son sits atop his throne to have a perfect vantage point to watch it crumble."

There must have been a serious punishment for harming a council member, because she had never see the king so angry and not physically lashing out.

"Then what would you have of me, my lords? You have asked for an heir and I have given it to you, and please recall my inaction with the border territories was by your command."

"Because instead of allowing us all to speak with the peace emissary you insulted him and stupidly declared war on your own subjects!" shouted an equally old man at the back of the room.

The king was clearly reaching the end of his temper and Santana wished Brittany was not seated so close.

"Then allow me to make good. I will show you I am the man my father thinks me. I can quell the uprising, I swear it, all I need is the council's approval to go to war and those who oppose us will be crushed so quickly they will forget there ever was a rebellion. As I have always said, this child's existence is irrelevant as I will not be killed, but I will have the son you so desire. Do not judge me any longer on failures that have not happened. Let me rule, freely, and watch our enemies fall."

The man who had first spoken looked to the queen, then to Santana before he nodded, "This we may discuss, but after you remove your queen and her aid as they do not belong here."

Like a man ordering a dog he turned to Brittany and jerked his head towards the door, "Go."

Santana moved to her side and helped her up and followed her out of the room; once they left, the large doors were closed behind them with a loud bang that made Brittany jump.

"I had never been in there before," she said quietly, "It is not something I look to repeat."

"Where shall we go, m'lady?" Santana asked, looking at the clerics who stood vigil nearby.

"I'm feeling a bit like stargazing."

* * *

At first she had thought her queen a little silly, though Santana knew little of the heavens she knew they were best viewed at night. Furthermore, on the few occasions she had been to the observatory it had been rather hot and atop an absurd number of stairs.

As it turned out things were not the same when royals were involved. There was a lift that took them to the top and opened into the small, stuffy room she remembered. It was full of many instruments and books that Santana couldn't even begin to understand; there was also a small ladder. It led to a much more secluded area, clearly meant for the royals to come and gaze at the stars, since it had much better ventilation and comfortable pillows laid out all over. Best of all it was in fact the highest point of the castle and the only entrance was a hatch on the floor, a hatch that was easily blocked with a cushion laid out on top of it by Santana before the queen began to ravage her on it.

"Wh-Why didn't we come here sooner?" Santana stuttered, as Brittany's hands worked their way under her shirt.

"This place is rarely empty, even during the day. Someone is always observing or studying the night's observations. I took a chance that we would be alone," she said before pulling Santana's shirt off altogether.

"Even up here?"

She nodded quickly before working to remove her belt, "This room is for nobles as well as royalty, many of them come to have their futures told, I think they believe their fortune will be better closer to the stars. I could commandeer the room, but Artie would have to be involved."

Santana was almost amused by her ability to speak of the mundane while undressing her so adeptly.

"Then is this even s-safe?" she yipped as Brittany pushed her chest bindings aside to kiss the exposed skin.

"It is courtesy… to knock… before entering… and we are blocking the only entrance," she said in between kisses before taking a hardened nipple in her mouth.

From that moment on Santana decided to trust her queen to know what she was doing and allowed her to do as she pleased. Emboldened by their seclusion she dared to remove the queen's layered, lavender dress and take advantage of all the freedom it gave her. In that room she made love to her queen for the first time since she had found out about her pregnancy, and though the knowledge still stung it did nothing to stop her from loving the woman in her arms or from knowing how much her queen loved her in return.

They took pleasure and comfort from one another until the sun's rays began to shine directly at them through the opening above, a sign that it was time to leave. However, lying next to the woman, Santana realized that she had never lay with her lover in the nude anywhere but in dark, secluded rooms. She knew it, because it was a sight she would never forget, the look of sunlight on golden curls, reflecting the color to her face and lighting the curves of her body.

Gently, Santana ran her fingers through the shimmering strands of hair, over her shoulder and down her side, earning her the most loving smile from her queen.

And in that moment Santana was the happiest she could remember ever being.

She wasn't sure why - she was still a slave, the woman she loved was carrying the child of a mad tyrant and a civil war was crashing down on them. But when Brittany smiled at her like that none of it mattered, because it was just them and she did everything in her power to commit the feeling and image to memory. Santana knew she would need to be able to recall it in the future, and if Archibald's plans were anything to go by it would be the near future.

Though it would have pleased her to stay in the observatory forever there was eventually a knock, and Brittany feigned ignorance as to which cushion the door was under until they were dressed.

The men that were waiting seemed exasperated with her, but hid it with bows and pleasantries since, after all, she was their queen.

She walked Brittany to court, wanting to hold her hand, to give her small kisses along the way, to show her love beyond the confines of hidden rooms. But she knew she couldn't, and watching the tall woman walk in front of her she once again steeled herself against the truth. Once more she had to remember that Brittany could never be completely hers, she belonged to the kingdom, Archibald, and the whims of the council, she was a slave in her own way and it was a fact that would not change.

However, when she arrived at court she was informed it was now her right to join the queen due to her delicate condition. And though sitting in at court was merely listening to an endless line of nobles and free men complain about various things, she found that her position seated at the queen's feet, leaning back against her legs, was strangely exhilarating. Brittany would occasionally lean forward and tell her something of little consequence or request water frequently just so she could lean close, always pressing her lips to Santana's ear as a sly kiss as she spoke. It wasn't blatant or out of the ordinary to those who observed, but to the two of them it was something completely different.

It led Santana's thoughts away from what she didn't have of Brittany and to think fondly of all she did.

* * *

A/N: A disclaimer, it was not my intent to release the cliff hanger on the eve of The Break Up episode, even considered changing the setup a little but this story is sort of inflexible when it comes to plot changes so... yeah, sorry for the double heart break ^.^

Also a question I wanted to address was: Why pick Matt for a main role in this fic?

Because I only create OC's if there is literally no one else who could reasonably fill the part, and as most of the best candidates have other roles to play I picked Matt because his personality on Glee is best suited for it. (read: he had no personality and could easily be whatever I wanted)

As a matter of fact when I talk to fans of Glee some people never know who I'm referring to if I bring him up. Sad part is I didn't even know he existed until season 2 when Will mentioned he had left... at which point I went back a few episodes to figure out who the hell he had been talking about...

Anywhozies, Azimio's b'n weird, wonder what all that's about. Hmmm.

Thanks for all the fav's, alerts and reviews. I always want to hear what you think so don't be shy, I swear I read every word ASAP.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a beautiful day at Castle Abrams when Santana woke, she took her meal in high spirits and afterwards happily woke Brittany from her sleep. They exchanged their morning greetings as lovers, converting to formal once the others arrived. Even Archibald greeted his queen with what could be mistaken for civility, though it was clear he was still in a foul mood about his escaped servant.

As they ate, Santana was able to warily observe the young girl that had replaced Tina; she seemed to have come from the same region or somewhere close by Santana's estimation. She was small, wide eyed, and seemed too young to have even reached womanhood, luckily for her the same thought seemed to have occurred to Archibald and he took no more interest in looking at her than he did his own wife.

In all, the morning was rather pleasant, which was probably why things went awry.

In a manner that reminded her of a time when the king was only a prince Lord Jacob burst through the doors, interrupting the calm of those eating. His appearance told Santana two things: that the unusual lord was clearly an errand boy for the council and that bad things were to come, because it seemed the royal's meal was never interrupted for good tidings. He shuffled to the far side of the table to speak to the king, but in the quiet of the room she was able to hear him easily.

"My lord, the north has sent a formal declaration of war," he said, his voice higher than usual.

The king stopped eating and gave the odd man a long stare before he sat back with a sigh, "We already assumed this would happen, so there must be more to this tale."

"Ah," he said, wringing his hands, "their formal declaration came in the form of shutting off our supply route. We will no longer receive supplies from them."

Archibald chuckled, "Is that what has you all so worried? What is it we get from them? Furs and unusual crafts?"

Santana's eyes went to Matthew, knowing he would have understood the implications immediately, and from the look on his face things had just gotten very bad.

Lord Jacob nodded, "Amongst other things, but, my lord, the furs are quite important."

"I believe we have plenty saved from last winter, am I correct?"

"Yes… but-"

"Then go and stop your worrying," he said with a wave of his hand, but the small man didn't move.

"Sir, the days grow shorter and as you know our position by the sea makes us vulnerable to cold," as he spoke it was clear his words were falling on deaf ears.

Which was most likely why Matthew spoke up, "Majesty, pardon me for saying so, but I believe you may have forgotten that the castle has well over three times the inhabitants it once had, and those seeking safety from the crown have begun to move from the border lands and into the village beyond the castle gates. If we do not receive supplies from the north most of the castle's inhabitants and its subjects will freeze to death."

The king's chewing slowed until he finished and swallowed thickly, "Can we not produce our own furs?"

Matthew seemed halfway tempted to scoff, "There are a few animals in the region who have suitable fur, but even if we killed every one of them I am quite sure we would still be short, not to mention, as a port town, hunting is not a skill cultivated by the average man. Especially since most viable game is property of the crown."

"Leave us, I will deal with this at council," he snapped at Jacob and Santana knew he only wished to be alone to pry answers from Matthew.

"But, my lord, the council is convening now," he said, pointing to the door as if all the councilmen could be seen waiting there.

"The trials of winter are at least a moon's turn away, I have time to finish my meal!"

"But I was sent to fetch you now-"

"Leave! I will join you shortly!" he shouted.

Jacob gave a curt nod and scurried out of the room, leaving silence to fall for a heartbeat before he rounded on Matthew.

"How do I fix this?" he asked bluntly.

The darker man shrugged and spread his hands, "Make the north your ally again."

"And how do I do that?" he spat, indignation lacing his words.

"I would suggest sending a peace emissary to talk to them, but at this point they may merely insult him and send him back."

"Are you trying to say something?" the king asked dangerously.

"I already said what I meant, that your actions would have repercussions and these are they."

"What do you suggest I do to keep my castle alive?" he asked the question slowly as if to try and focus the conversation to that one thing.

"Focus on heating, the barracks and the servants' sleeping quarters especially."

Archibald rolled his eyes, "Why am I wasting heat on servants?"

Matthew's eyebrow twitched, but he remained calm, "As they run the castle I would advise you to be sure they don't freeze to death. Unless your plan is to begin to do everything on your own?" when the king shook his head he continued, "It won't be perfect, but it should be enough to keep death at bay. We will need to group the servants into one place instead of the four separate towers. And…" here he paused to give the king's new servant a side glance, "It would go far if the royal servants were to join the others for their sleeping arrangements."

Archibald looked to the girl in the corner and snorted, "Fine by me."

Santana glanced at Brittany and saw the distress on her face, but she didn't interject.

"I also suggest we reduce the number of servants working all at once and merely have them trade coats between them when out of their rooms. That way we should have enough for the soldiers who are on duty and furs to sell to those in the village who need them."

"Can we acquire more furs from nowhere else?"

Matthew sighed, "Your only remaining ally at the moment is officially the south, however, a delivery in the quantities we need would take months, and will more than likely be attacked. Furthermore, the south is not known for sturdy furs meant to last through the sort of winters we have."

"We are truly in a rough spot," he said thoughtfully.

"Agreed," the other man replied looking down on the king with disapproving eyes.

"I suppose I must go to meet the council then."

With that the king rose and walked solemnly to the door.

When he had fully left the room, Brittany set down her cutlery with a clang and frowned down at her food, Santana already knew what was troubling her.

"It wouldn't be permanent," she offered helpfully, "we would still see each other all day."

Brittany's jaw set in a grimace and for a moment Santana didn't know what to make of it, she wasn't sure if the queen was angry, plotting or both, but she really wished she could figure it out.

"M'lady?" she asked, wanting the blonde to talk to her.

"I already spend so little time with you privately and they seek to make it less," she said quietly.

"You will never lose me," Santana assured.

She sighed and stood, "I've lost my appetite."

"Where would you like to go?"

The queen paused and looked at the floor, "I don't know," she said softly.

Seeing sadness envelop her, Santana began to worry, "How about a ride?"

She shook her head, "Artie does not want me unattended on a horse as he deems them hateful, dangerous beasts."

"You will have me."

Brittany gave her a sad smile, "Yes, but he cannot know you rode with me, so he could never know I heeded his warning."

"A carriage then," she said suddenly, excited by her own idea, "A carriage ride through town, to get out of the castle."

Santana's spirits lifted as clearly the idea appealed to the queen, "I suppose that would be nice."

* * *

The carriage was not completely covered, so their chances to touch were quite limited, however, the queen made due, holding Santana's hand closely between them as they rode. Those who saw them pass seemed amicable enough to her, though some shot dirty looks discreetly. Santana couldn't blame them as to those in poverty she was a spoiled royal who was out to watch those less fortunate wallow in their sorrows. And with the upcoming war she was sure that their animosity ran deeper than that.

Slowly, they made their way through the winding streets, never venturing towards the outer area where the truly common folk lived. The sun was bright, belying the harshness of the oncoming winter and hardships soon to befall the areas it lit. In the sun Santana was drawn to stare at her queen, loving the look of her in the light.

Her attention to the other woman was what made her notice Brittany's hand rest on her belly for the barest moment, reminding her of the very thing she spent every waking moment trying to forget.

With a sigh she looked over at the tall wall that guarded the wealthy from the poor, "What will you do," she said, gaining Brittany's immediate attention, "if it's a girl?"

"Love her," she said with a half smile, "As much as I am allowed anyway."

"Royals are not allowed to love their children?"

"_I_ can't show too much affection publically; not unless I want her reduced to a way to hurt me when his hands can't do enough damage."

Santana turned away, feeling an acute jealousy of the child with whom she would have to share Brittany's affections, while simultaneously feeling ashamed of that jealousy. And she couldn't help but wonder if at some point she wouldn't be needed anymore.

But as was her habit Brittany sensed her thoughts and pulled Santana's hand discreetly into her lap, "Don't think I would love you less, it could not and will not happen."

Santana looked away, embarrassed that she had been read so easily, "You don't know that," she replied, not knowing why she was pushing the issue.

"I do," the queen and it was clear that those were the final words on the matter.

Santana turned back to the open air and saw that they were quite a ways from the castle and, at the pace they were going, had some time before they got back. The privacy provided was not enough to spend their remaining time doing anything more intimate than hand holding, and it was frustrating, because the words that had been spoken to her made her want to hold her queen close and kiss her deeply before telling her all the ways she meant more than life itself. Instead, Santana gave the hand in hers a squeeze and glared at the edges of the carriage that came just past her waist.

Brittany looked at her with questioning eyes, but she only shook her head, "I merely wish it was my right to express my love for you wherever I pleased."

"I'll wager you don't wish it as much as I do," the queen replied with a grin.

With a huff of continued frustration she looked out at the observatory, sitting high in the sky, inevitably full of old men who were wealthier than anyone had a right to be, checking the stars to ensure more wealth would come their way. Irritated by the misuse of a perfectly good hiding spot she looked back inside the carriage, frowning slightly.

It had occurred to her that they could hide below the doors by lying on the seat and kissing until the ride was over since the driver was seated below them with a covered top. And they were high up enough from the ground that no casual observer would see them, however, it would be odd for the royal carriage to be seen trotting around the streets with no one visibly inside. The entire point of the outings was for the royals to appear to care about their subjects by riding amongst them and Santana was not fond of any plan that would make anyone think less of Brittany. She had not forgotten that her queen's life could fall into the hands of these people or their fellow citizens, so the more loved she was the better.

But then again, it was important that the _royals_ appear to care…

It had been Santana's belief for some time that it was a tad unfair that Brittany always be the one to find a way to show her affection in public without anyone knowing. And if a slave at a council meeting could get away with it, why couldn't she?

With a sly smile she turned to Brittany and quietly asked, "If you could, would you have me now?" her voice dropped in a way that let the queen know exactly how she meant it.

Brittany laughed a little, "I always want to have you," and her voice held the same desire.

"Then I should get that," she said, casually pointing to the spotless floor before moving to retrieve the invisible item.

Confusion clouded the blonde's face, a look that surely changed after Santana dove under her dress, but the smaller woman didn't see it. She merely focused on navigating the piles of fabric that kept her from her goal. Once she was able to trace her way up long slender legs to their juncture she pulled at her underclothes until the queen reluctantly lifted her hips.

From above she heard a muffled, "Santana, what are you-"

A smirk came over her the moment the queen's words halted in her throat from the sensation of Santana's tongue between her legs. It took no urging to get Brittany to slide further forward as the queen seemed quite eager to allow her better access. Santana moved slowly, savoring every taste and every tremor her movements caused. She could feel Brittany's breathing change from short pants to erratic very quickly, and purposefully pulled back, needing the moment to last longer.

"Remember to smile at your subjects," she advised from under the privacy of the dress.

She could hear a shaky laugh from above before she returned to her task and that laugh became a strangled gasp. With loving care she worked her queen to the very brink of release and slowed once again, feeling the frustration and yearning within the coiled muscles of her thighs and in the way Brittany subtly bucked against her. Taking possession of the hips before her, Santana took control of all movement. She drew the experience out, not just because it was exhilarating, erotic and gratifying, but because she didn't know when she would ever have the chance again. They may return to the castle to find that their living arrangements had already been changed, making these moments even more rare.

Santana teased until even she couldn't handle the strain anymore and finally had mercy on the quivering body beneath her fingers, her tongue easily working the queen towards her climax. And when she peaked the brunette had to hold her down as she almost threw Santana off her when her hips jutted forward. The only regret she had as she finished her task was that she couldn't see the expression her queen was wearing.

As if she had always known what she was doing she cleaned herself and Brittany before reappearing next to her, looking like nothing had happened.

It gave her a great sense of pride to see the satisfaction on her lover's flushed face; her eyes half lidded, almost all black, and a lazy smile sitting on her features. The light sheen of sweat, heavy breathing and her knuckles, white with the effort of keeping them on the carriage, the only other signs that anything had occurred.

"I couldn't find it," Santana said apologetically.

"I think you did," Brittany replied quickly, her breathing still irregular.

It was clear from the look she was giving that she had every intent of returning the favor to Santana at some point, but in the meantime she reclaimed her servant's hand, rubbing it gently with the pad of her thumb.

That was their only contact until they reached the castle gates and Santana wondered if Brittany knew how much it affected her, having achieved no release of her own.

The carriage returned them to the castle doors and when they exited the smaller woman couldn't contain a smirk as Brittany wobbled a little upon standing. After the queen found sure footing they made their way back into the castle and began to travel the long hall to the royal court when Santana felt an unpleasantly familiar tingle travel up her spine.

Turning, she found herself face to face with the very person she expected to find: Azimio.

"Council is still going," he said and once again she had to squint while contemplating his words.

It was reminiscent of when she had first met Tina and Michael and had to ponder every word they said, but she supposed that was easier to get used to since they talked more often.

Brittany seemed to understand well enough as she nodded, "Alright, will we be sent for when it is done?"

"No court today," he said and for some reason turned to stare eerily at Santana, as if he was trying to work something out about her.

Taking a full step back, she turned to Brittany, "Where should we go then, m'lady?"

"I slept poorly last night, I supposed I will go to my room and rest until I am needed," she said simply and Santana had to fight a smile off her face.

Though the implications made her happy she did not like the look Azimio gave them as they walked away.

* * *

For Santana the number of incoming stresses were piling: Brittany's advancing pregnancy, their possible separation over the winter season, Azimio's odd and alarming behavior that seemed like it would only become worse. But she remembered to focus on the small, wonderful moments in life instead of the looming disasters, so when she got to spend all of her day in bed with her queen gladly let everything else melt away.

The danger of being walked in on was extraordinarily high, especially with them waiting for someone to come and fetch the blonde, but Brittany had blocked the door with a chair. It was something that would normally raise suspicion, but others would easily believe that their simple queen accidentally barred her door once in her life.

So they blocked the door and made the absolute most of their guaranteed seclusion.

Brittany returned the attention she was given on the carriage ride in full and then some, before Santana decided to flip things around and have the queen at her mercy once more. They stayed that way, lost in each other, until the day flowed away and they were both too tired to move.

Through the small breaks they had taken, Santana had wondered why they had yet to be summoned, but now that her rest was not merely a race to regain energy, she truly worried. Mustering strength she barely had, Santana stood and pulled on her clothes, helping Brittany to reluctantly do the same before brushing her golden hair back into a respectable style. Quickly she ran her fingers through her own hair, pulled it into a ponytail and unblocked the door, opening it slowly.

There was no one on the other side and it was a little unnerving.

Worried, she stepped out into the hall, looked up at the sky and saw that it was time for the royal's evening meal.

A frown fell over Santana's face as she turned and hurried to fetch Brittany to usher her to the dining hall. However, when they arrived the food was ready, but the king was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Artie?" Brittany asked absently since she knew Santana didn't know.

"Council is not over," said a voice from behind them.

Santana turned with a jump, supremely irritated by Azimio's ability to enter and exit a room silently. And with a pang of fear she wondered if he had been lurking around the queen's door again. They were always quiet when they were together and the thick door and stone walls blocked sound well, however, the man seemed able to appear out of thin air, so she wasn't willing to make bets on what he could or could not hear.

"They are _still_ in session?" Brittany asked, her eyebrows raised.

She wanted to ask if that bode well or not, but she dared not with Azimio still lingering so close.

"I was sent by Matthew," the large man added as if anyone had asked.

Both women frowned at the unsolicited information, "Well, thank you for delivering the message, you may go," the queen said.

Azimio only stood, staring blankly at them before he bowed and showed himself out.

"I do not like him," Santana said unnecessarily.

"I second that."

"Has the council ever gone this long before?" she asked quietly in case the understeward still lurked nearby.

"Once before when the king sovereign was proposing to turn the border territories into defense outposts, but even then they convened long before it became this late."

Santana nodded and would have replied, but at that moment the king stormed into the room looking quite livid. He was followed by Matthew who was seemed disappointed again and the small girl who merely looked afraid.

The king threw himself into his chair without a word to his wife and when his food was presented he ate it quickly and stood to storm out.

"Is council over my lord?" Brittany asked him before he could march out the door.

She had asked so calmly Santana wondered if her voice had actually reached him all the way across the room, but then he spun towards her with rage in his eyes and it was clear it had.

"Of course it's out, you stupid bitch! Why do you think I'm here?!" he shouted and continued to storm out.

The door slammed behind him leaving them all in silence, "That was uncalled for," the queen said, frowning at the door.

"He is uncalled for," Santana mumbled.

The king was not heard from again as Brittany finished her meal, and afterwards, when she was taken to receive her bath it passed peacefully. Their interactions during were soft and loving, but nothing more intimate since both were still rather exhausted.

She sent her to bed with a final parting kiss and chuckled to herself when the woman fell right to sleep.

Santana took her own meal, talking with Puck while fighting off her own fatigue and deciding to save her own bath for the morning. Though the water would be much colder then she was reluctant to rush in washing away the smell of her queen that seemed to almost be engrained in her skin.

And when she went to bed, she thought that if there could be more days like the one she had just spent, it was completely worth her enslavement to stay. Those were her final lingering thoughts before sleep overtook her in a way it hadn't since she first became a lady in waiting.

* * *

The next morning started with Santana rising before the sun to finally bathe, eating her meal and hurrying to wake her queen to possibly have enough time to give her more than a brief kiss.

When she entered the room she was surprised to find the other woman already up and dressed, and Brittany jumped when she heard the door open. She was sitting at her dresser, a washbasin before her, when Santana had come in and she frowned as it was not in the queen's nature to wake up on her own so early. Then she saw Brittany's face, and her world fell.

It was quite obvious that sometime in the night the king had paid a visit for the sole reason of taking out his frustration on her. It was also clear that, without anyone to answer to for Brittany's well being, he hadn't hidden the marks he left.

Her face was bruised and her lip was split and still bleeding, though it was evident the queen had gone through pains to hide that fact. She was wearing a dress that was unlaced since it was impossible for her to do on her own, but Santana understood that it was to hide the mess he had made of her nightclothes.

Brittany tried to stand, favoring one leg over the other, as unaffectedly as possible, "It isn't as bad as it looks," she said, trying to smile, but it only made her lip bleed more.

Santana stood completely still except for the tremors of rage that made her physically shake with their force. She wanted to find Archibald and return every blow to him and then some, but Brittany took another step forward and stumbled, making her rage switch to sorrow as she rushed to Brittany's side.

The taller woman steadied with Santana's guiding hands, and up close she could see that the damage went down her neck and beneath her dress. With a desperate effort Santana tried to feel the anger once more, she needed it to block the sadness that was coming. But when Brittany hugged her and whispered, 'I'm okay' it was far too late.

She held her back, unable to stop from crying against her shoulder and feeling so very ashamed that she couldn't hold herself together as she hadn't been the one hurt.

It felt like she had, though, and it won out for the most acute pain ever felt as there was nothing she could do to make it better. She couldn't internalize or ignore it, because it wasn't her own, she could only watch Brittany suffer and do nothing to lessen the pain of the woman she loved so much.

"I'm sorry," Brittany muttered in her hair.

"Don't!" Santana cried out suddenly, "Don't apologize for him!"

She hugged the smaller woman tighter, "I wasn't, I'm sorry you had to see this."

Pulling back, she looked into the blue eyes that were bordered with darkening bruises, a small cut sitting above her left one, "Why would he even do this? I thought he had what he wanted from you."

"Last night he wanted someone to take his frustrations out on, though he was kind enough not to hit my belly."

Santana had to keep from cursing aloud, she actually would have preferred that, so the man would see the consequence of hurting the woman who carried the child he wanted so badly. The only reason she kept her words to herself was because she knew how sad it would make Brittany to lose the child and because it would probably mean even more brutal beatings with no restraints.

Besides all else, she was already so upset with herself for having slept so peacefully through the whole thing.

"Why didn't you ring for me? Afterwards? I would have taken care of you, I could have gotten Beiste."

"I said I didn't want you to see," she said again, her face still trying to seem upbeat despite the fact that without the washbasin her lip and the cut above her eye were bleeding rather badly again.

"Of course I would see!" Santana exclaimed, exasperated.

"I know but, I thought I could make it better before you got here," she said, looking at the floor.

Santana wanted to continue to complain, but the truth was she understood completely, because if she had walked into the room to find her lover beaten and soaked in blood she might have done something quite foolish. As a matter of fact she hadn't and she was still on the verge of deciding to kill Archibald on sight.

Instead of drawing the issue out she took Brittany by the hand and led her back to her dresser to clean her face again. She washed away the blood and cleaned the wounds with a tender touch, determined not to shed another tear in front of her. Once she was done she carefully removed the dress the queen wore as blood and water had splattered on it and held her tongue when she saw that the king had clearly used more than his hands as welts covered her arms and legs.

Keeping a stony silence, she went to fetch another dress and upon opening the doors of her expansive closet she saw her blood splattered nightclothes shoved into a corner. For a moment she broke and her eyes betrayed her, but she wiped away the one escaped tear and stood tall, squaring her shoulders and picking out something that didn't require as much lacing.

They said nothing more even as Beiste arrived to check the state of her pregnancy and repair the open wounds, and the service covered the rest in fine powders, though Brittany still looked as though she had been in a fight.

It was so apparent that when they greeted the king in the morning Matthew seemed startled by the state of the queen's face and his new servant girl made the quick connection and fell several steps further back.

As Brittany couldn't walk easily they made it to the dining hall quite a bit later, and when she sat to eat Santana moved to help her, not caring how it looked. She lifted the porridge to her mouth, feeding her, kneeling next to the queen's chair and resting her arm delicately on her stronger leg so her hand could rest atop Brittany's. Without a single care she soothingly rubbed her arm and fed her, looking into her eyes to silently convey how loved she was.

Santana had no desire to even look at the other end of the table, but she could hear a steady rumbling mutter that sounded like Matthew's lecturing voice.

When the queen's meal was half done she heard the sound of Archibald snapping in irritation, apparently through hearing Matthew's reprimands, followed by the sound of him rising from his seat. However, instead of the sound of him marching from the hall she heard the sound of him coming closer. She tensed, as did Brittany, and felt her lover take hold of her wrist, not to stop her caresses but to keep her in place, because she seemed to know what was running through Santana's mind.

Archibald approached and stopped an arm's length from where they were; Santana could not look at him without glaring, so she only stared at the pale hand grasping her tightly.

"I-" the king began and then paused to clear his throat, "I realize that my behavior last night was not in the best interest of my son and I do not want you to worry over it happening again. I am told that the mother's well being is as important as the child's, so I just want you to know that I am aware," he said as if it were physically painful for him to say that he had acted wrongly.

"I understand, my lord," Brittany replied, her voice held no sincerity or love, only a flat tone that told him nothing of what she really thought.

"I'm glad," he said, apparently feeling as if her words had been an acceptance of his non-apology. "I didn't mean to… ruling can be stressful and… I see now that hurting you didn't solve it."

Santana was back to being a tightly wound ball of rage.

What about all the other times he had hurt her before he had even been a ruler? And did these words apply to after the baby was born? Was this actually him sorry? Did he really feel his words were acceptable?

"I'm told the child still lives, so no permanent damage has been caused," she said in the same tone.

Santana ground her teeth at the words because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Brittany had to play this role or risk more of the same. It wasn't fair that there was no one left to let the king know when he was out of line, that he was no man by any stretch of the imagination.

It wasn't fair that she had to kneel here and listen to the queen of her whole world make such a foolish person feel better about the wrong he had done.

"Good, well…" he stopped again and Santana was curious enough to glance up just enough to see he was looking Brittany over, "Maybe you should rest, in your room; at least until the swelling recedes."

"As you wish."

With that he walked away and Santana let out a tense breath, "Bastard," she grumbled.

Brittany only chuckled softly, "Indeed." The queen relaxed her grip and met her brown eyes easily, "May I have more porridge?"

She smiled up at her in amusement, because even if Brittany weren't a queen and she a slave she would never have to ask if Santana wanted to do something for her.

* * *

The day was spent as the king asked, with Brittany in her room resting quietly as it was too difficult for her to do anything else. Beiste made another visit to check her health and to give her something for the pain. The brew the queen was given made her tired enough to fall asleep almost instantly, and the healer informed Santana that she would be unconscious for quite a while, but she stayed at the queen's side anyway. She stayed and watched over her, knowing that if the king set foot in the room it would be his last day on earth. Santana guarded her queen in her sleep, knowing Brittany would worry if she knew the thoughts in her head.

Through it all, through her willingness to throw her life away to keep Archibald from hitting her so much as one more time, she couldn't help but feel like a cheap imitation of a guardian. Because Brittany was a true knight, she was so much braver and stronger than Santana had the ability to be, she withstood anything to protect those she loved while playing a role she hated without so much as flinching. Santana knew she wouldn't have been able to withstand such a beating and then swallow such a sorry excuse for an apology the next day.

Even when she had been abused as a child those who hurt her never pretended it was anything more or less than what it was. This was a new, much harder form of imprisonment and she wasn't sure how long she could go on watching Brittany go through it without saying a word.

* * *

A/N: I have gotten a few PM's asking how Brittany avoided pregnancy for so long and then suddenly conceive. The easy answer is that it was time, conception is easier for some couples than others. In this case it is a combinations of factors, but the main one was the prince-later-king wasn't as fertile as he would have liked to have thought.

Thanks for the continuing support, the next chapter is underway so you should hear from me soon… but then again Gearbox just released the Mechromancer class for Borderlands 2…


	16. Chapter 16

The cold days seemed to only grow colder as time passed, even though winter season itself was not yet upon them. Santana walked grudgingly after Matthew, the king and queen as they rode easily ahead of her. The morning was crisp but growing warmer from the sun in the sky and, for Santana, the exertion of following those before her.

Ahead, the king and queen were riding in a leisurely fashion, Archibald choosing to once again use his own mount with Brittany in front of him, holding her close in a way an unknowing person would call chivalrous.

The action wasn't unusual as of late, after his last brutality to his wife the king had gone out of his way to be kind to her. Though Santana wasn't sure of the motive, as long as he wasn't hurting Brittany she accepted it.

The horses rode at a brisk pace that she had to fight to keep up with as they were riding farther out than the small woman could ever remember going. It wasn't long until they outpaced her and Matthew had to call ahead to ask the king to wait.

Santana wished immediately he hadn't, the king looked at her as if he had been asked to wait for a deer tick, however, he halted his horse and cursed at her to hurry. Knowing she needed to keep Brittany silent on the matter, she gave the woman a secret smile before hurrying to catch up. Unfortunately, it wasn't long until she fell behind again, and once more she would have given what little was to her name to stop Matthew from calling out.

This time when he stopped the king rounded as if he intended to run her down, but his aid sensed his anger and the tension that was clearly in the queen.

"Sire, she is on foot, may I suggest she ride with me?" Matthew asked easily, and everyone paused.

Archibald seemed almost confused by the request, Brittany's face became a mask of pleasantness, which only occurred when she felt quite upset, and Santana was nervous. Matthew's mount suddenly seemed mountainous, and looking up at it she recalled that the last time she had ridden one it had been with the queen. And suddenly she felt she knew what had Brittany upset.

"I suppose if it keeps her from falling behind," Archibald said, as if unsure if it were the correct answer.

Santana had to assume he had never offered such a thing to anyone else, it was a kind gesture, but one she took reluctantly nonetheless. With incredible ease he lifted her up onto the back of his stallion and she found that, unlike with Brittany, her trepidation did not lift once his arms went under hers for the reigns. She couldn't help but focus on the sway of the beast and the way she felt like she would topple off every time it lifted a hoof. Clearly feeling her anxiety, Matthew slowed its pace, putting them a bit further behind the king than he had previously been traveling, but not enough to cause issue. Grateful for the consideration, Santana took a deep breath and relaxed slightly, trying not to think of how badly it would hurt to fall from the this height and break her leg.

Up ahead she could see Archibald pointing things out to Brittany who observed and listened, though it was clear to Santana that she was not at all interested in what he had to say.

Her observation was interrupted by Matthew's voice, "Have you seen Sunshine in the mornings?"

Santana frowned before answering, "I see sunshine most mornings that there aren't clouds."

A laugh rumbled from his chest, "No, Sunshine is the girl that is attending the king."

Her eyes widened in understanding, "Oh, I see… is that really what she is called?"

He shook his head, "She hasn't told me her given name, only what her captors call her."

"I haven't seen her around at all."

"She seems to make herself quite scarce when she is not needed, a valuable skill, admittedly, but a tad frustrating when I need to speak with her."

Nagging curiosity caused her to ask, "What is it you need to tell her?"

"As the man responsible for training her on how to care for the king? Many things."

She sighed and looked ahead, "Did you pick her for this duty?"

"I did," he said easily.

"Why?" she asked, a frown creasing her brow as she dropped her voice, "Why do that to one so young?"

He leaned closer to her, his voice as quiet as hers when he spoke, "As little as you think of our young king he is not a man who finds pleasure in children. She was chosen because she is young and my hope is that by the time that she is of age he will have a lingering disinterest in her. Moreover she is only a year or two from becoming a woman, so it is unlikely she will grow any taller, which will hopefully deter him further once she is a reasonable age."

Feeling a little better about the girl's plight, she asked, "And you're sure he will not tire of sharing his bed with no one?"

"The king has many freed women willing to share his bed, Tina was merely a favorite. He does not have a proclivity to force himself on those closest to him. Thankfully."

"I must admit surprise that you have thought things through so thoroughly."

"Did you think I am not thoughtful?" he asked in amusement.

"I was merely unaware that you thought on slave placement so much."

"Not just servants, I may have informed the king that the likelihood of having a boy goes up a great deal the better he treats the mother."

Her eyebrow arched, "Does that not play against your notion of memento mori?"

"I don't know what you mean, there is no danger to saying that, it _is_ after all a popular tale among the men at the docks… one that I believe was indeed started by their wives, but a believed tale nonetheless. And I told him as much, so there is no lie to be caught in," Santana glanced back at him suspiciously, "I _may_ have overstated how much _I_ believe the tale, but there is no way for anyone to know that."

"That is very kind of you," she said, feeling better knowing the reason for the king's kindness.

"I am not the heartless man you seem to think I am," he said; his tone was light, but Santana was aware that she had caused real offense when they had spoken in the library.

"I never thought you heartless."

"You did," he said with a chuckle.

"I did," she conceded, "but that is no longer true."

"We will stop here!" the king called, pulling them from their conversation.

Santana held on tightly as Matthew urged his steed forward to the edge of a large, rushing river that flowed to the cliff's edge.

He dismounted and grabbed the supplies tied to the back of the mount to spread a blanket for the royals to sit on. Archibald leapt off his horse before helping Brittany down with a smile, and escorted her to the preplanned spot.

Santana remained where she was, not at all excited about her odds of getting down without hurting herself. Matthew returned to help her down and when they joined their masters she found Archibald smiling over at them.

"You two seem to get along quite well," he said jovially, "What do you say, Matthew? Would you bed her? Make a child to be a friend and servant to my son as you are to me."

It was clear that the man thought this was a novel idea, even though Santana's face hardened, Matthew looked flustered, and Brittany was clearly using her vast stores of restraint to keep from saying anything.

"Er," Matthew began, clearly trying to find the right words, "I don't think that would be wise as Santana is meant to care for Brittany during her pregnancy, something she cannot do while experiencing her own."

"I suppose," the king huffed, seeming to have finally sensed how uncomfortable the topic had made everyone around him. Then, turning to his wife, he asked, "How do you like it here? You love that ridiculous garden so much, I thought this would please you," he said kindly.

She looked to him with her stiff, false smile and nodded, "I do love being outside."

Archibald then gave Matthew a victorious look, as if she had leapt into his arms and kissed him while singing his praises for knowing the one thing to brighten her day. Santana was sickened by the whole display and had to look elsewhere as he placed an arm around her to pull her to his side.

Matthew turned away, ushering Santana with him as they returned to the horses to tie them to nearby trees where they waited, keeping their masters in sight.

"Why is Karofsky not with us?" Santana asked suddenly, more to ignore the way Archibald was lovingly rubbing Brittany's stomach, which showed the barest hint that she was with child.

"I would not think you one to want him along," Matthew chuckled.

"I don't, but he has followed the king everywhere else, it seems odd that he would stop when he is most vulnerable,"

"It isn't," he said, pausing as if considering his next words carefully, "Karofsky has another task while the king is away."

"Which is…" she prompted.

"Which is watching over Azimio."

The name made Santana pay much more attention, "Why?"

"He… as of late he has been rather adamant about finding Tina and Michael."

That took Santana aback, "Did he even know them?"

"No, not in any sense that mattered, however, I hear he has become convinced that it is a way to return to good standing with the king. Not that it has ever been particularly bad, but I assume that is how he had taken his reassignment to understeward."

Santana thought his words over, slowly coming to a realization, "So he has been looking for a way to gain favor?"

Matthew watched as the king lay down on the blanket to and repositioned himself so Brittany could join him. She looked down at her husband with a detached stare before doing as he bid her.

"Yes," he replied, still watching the scene before him, "and in his quest he has beaten quite a few servants quite badly, to the point where they may no longer be of use to the crown. So Karofsky has been left to watch over the man's movements while the king is away."

Santana was about to comment on how decent of him it was to do that when she quickly deduced that this had been Matthew's idea and the king had merely agreed to it.

"Why Karofsky?"

Matthew chuckled, "Because he is the only other man in the castle who can match Azimio in size; the man is not only large but incredibly powerful, the rumors of him cutting men down are not at all exaggerated. I only wish to be sure that I do not return to find every servant of the castle beaten and tortured within a hair's width of their lives."

Everything was much clearer now - and far more worrying, "He was trying to do this even before they left," she said, remembering his lurking form in the hallway the night she had returned.

The other man sighed and shrugged, "To the best of my knowledge, those he dealt with are unwilling to say anything lest he feel the need to pay them another visit."

Azimio was lurking, looking for something to gain him favor with the king, and it didn't seem to much matter what that thing was. She wasn't sure why he was so adamant about following her however, she hoped it wasn't because he could sense what was between her and the queen. That would be a disaster in many ways.

"There is nothing that can be done about that, though. For a variety of reasons he cannot be simply sent away and he is currently the castle's best warrior, so despite his… unusual methods he is needed."

Santana looked out at the rushing river and tried not to frown at the way Archibald traced small patterns over Brittany's arms, "He really believes he is making her happy with this outing?"

"He doesn't know any better," Matthew sighed, once more rubbing his face tiredly.

"I will confess my surprise that you got him to even give the lackluster apology he attempted."

"I was as well." When Santana gave him a questioning look he continued, "It was proven by his attack on the queen that he has stopped heeding his parent's advice to never leave visible marks. And as of late, the king has not been considering my council as often as he should."

"Why does he feel the need to hurt her?" Santana asked, her anger making her focus on the man in the distance all the more. "Why her, out of all those who live at the castle?"

"I suppose because - like Tina– she is simply his favorite in that regard."

Her jaw tightened and turned away when it seemed the heat of her stare caused the king to glance back in her direction.

Needing the topic to change again, she said, "If at all possible, do me the favor of not sending Azimio to fetch the queen and I again."

Matthew gave her a quizzical look, "I have never sent him to fetch you, he is an understeward, his job is to tell a servant to do it."

Santana returned the look, "He has come for us three times, always acting oddly."

"Maybe he simply has yet to truly grasp what his job is, I do not speak his native tongue, so from time to time we do not understand each other."

He said it in such a way that made Santana think he did not actually believe this was the case. Which was good, because she didn't either.

* * *

Once the farce of an outing had concluded, they returned to the castle in decent time. Santana grudgingly returned on Matthew's mount, wishing with every step that the ride would be over. They arrived to find Sunshine dutifully waiting to return the king's horse to the stables and Santana decided to try and take note of the girl more often as she remembered how awful and lonely it was to be new in the castle.

The king dismounted and reached up to help his queen down, when she was on the ground he kissed her on the cheek and Santana could see her stiffen under his touch.

"My lady, I have other matters to attend to, so if you will excuse me," he said, before turning to leave.

Santana decided not to dwell on how tragic it was that he thought a ride to the river to hear him talk was the queen's idea of being pampered.

"Sire?" Brittany asked, gaining his attention once more, "May I ask something of you?"

Matthew went completely still at the question as did Santana, forcing her eyes to the ground to hide her surprise and trepidation. The king himself seemed curious as much as defensive and Brittany only smiled pleasantly.

Sunshine sensed the mood and vanished along with the king's mount and she wondered if the girl wasn't the wisest of them all.

"You may," he said carefully.

"With the winter season approaching I know we must move our servants, but, I wonder, could Santana merely move to my room?"

Archibald frowned at the request, his eyes moving to Matthew as if the other man could detect some sort of trap in the request, "Do not worry, you will still be able to call her should you need her in the night."

"I am aware, I merely thought it would be best if she were to stay with me, not only to assist me, but to keep me warm as well since my king is so far from me."

He frowned slightly then began to nod, "I hardly see how the furs you have been provided are insufficient," the king started, clearly wanting to argue over the matter, but then he visibly calmed. "But it can never hurt to be overly cautious, so yes, she can stay with you."

Brittany merely nodded her thanks as her husband left, keeping a simple and demure air about her. Santana didn't know how, because she was positively ecstatic and had to work to return her face to a more neutral setting before she looked up.

Matthew was excused to walk his horse to the stables and when he returned Sunshine appeared, as if by magic, to follow him and her king as he swept away to take care of whatever matters concerned him.

Once alone Santana turned to Brittany with a grin, "I think you may be the most brilliant woman in all the world."

She smiled back, "I don't know what you mean, it wouldn't do for the queen of the kingdom to be cold at night, would it?"

"No, that wouldn't do at all," Santana said with a chuckle.

* * *

After the affirmation that she and Brittany would soon share sleeping quarters, Santana could hardly wait for the cold to roll in. She knew the winter would be raw and rough, but if to crawl into bed with Brittany at the end of the day was the reward then she was more than ready for it.

Especially since their evenings at the garden were never more than casual hand holding. And the nights where Santana didn't see Azimio lurking were so few that the last time she'd had the queen in any sort of romantic sense had been before the king had beaten her so badly.

During court was when they were the closest and Santana treasured every second, which was why it was distressing, not to mention confusing, when the king called for her.

"You, there," were his words to call her and he had to repeat them twice, because he hadn't spoken to her directly since she had first arrived at the castle and it had only been to tell her to go receive lashings.

Finally understanding that she was being called, she turned to the king to see his cold, grey eyes resting on her, leaving no doubt who he was speaking to.

Cautiously, Santana stood, fully aware of Brittany's worried eyes following her, and walked over to the king.

"Yes, sire?" she asked, keeping her eyes off his in case she was unable to keep the hate out of them.

"I need you to fetch Matthew for me," he said lazily.

Santana fought to keep her face still and looked up, noticing for the first time that he was not in fact in the room at the king's side as he usually was. Only Karofsky stood nearby, his beady eyes scanning the room, glaring at those that desired an audience with the king.

"I do not know where-"

"He is in his rooms. Fetch him now," the tone left no room for further questioning and Santana merely nodded as she left the prodigious area before he heard out another noble in need.

She had never been to Matthew's room, as a matter of fact she had never been to the king's. Although she did indeed know that they were just down the hall from the queen's chambers, traveling through the servants' stairwells had her a little lost. After a time she found the right path and spotted the large, decorative door that belonged to the king and several others to either side that were far less impressive. She assumed since the king and queen were meant to share a room allotments had been made for both their personal servants and any others they wanted to keep on hand. As to which door was Matthew's was the part that threw her a little, but deciding the worst that could happen would be to get it wrong and find no one she opened the one on the left that was closest to the king's.

Immediately she knew she had the wrong room.

Though no one was inside and she wouldn't pretend to know Matthew on a deep level, she didn't take him for the type to have weapons all over the walls, clothes littering the floor and empty bottles of ale lying around. And when a strong, familiar musk hit her she became aware that the room that would have been hers had been given to Karofsky.

With a look of distaste she closed the door and opened the other on the right of the king's, thinking that his servant's would be closest. She was right, but had to assume the threadbare room she looked into was Sunshine's, the only proof the room was lived in were the nightclothes the girl had already laid out for herself on the bed.

A sigh of frustration escaped her as she closed the door and opened the one next to it, hoping to find Matthew there. Her wish came true as she opened the door to find the man sitting at a desk in his small room, pouring over the documents that covered it. The room was more like she pictured, there were drawings of various places and contraptions covering the walls, and all of the open corners were piled high with books.

When she opened the door he looked up with a half smile and waved her in, "Come, have a seat."

She was tempted to but hesitated as her orders had not been to linger, "The king has called for you."

Without looking up Matthew continued to look over the paper in his hands that seemed to be full of numbers, "No, he didn't. He instructed you to come here so I could bed you for the sake of giving you a child."

Santana's eyes widened and her mouth fell open in shock, not knowing what to say, and she was mildly unsure of what to do.

"Are you planning to…" she didn't finish, because there was no correct word other than rape and she didn't want to speak it.

He finally looked up at her, wounded, "You really do think I have no heart."

"Matthew, if the king commanded it, how am I to know you won't do it?"

Shaking his head, he stood and moved to close the door. Santana tensed, looking ready to run out of it before he could, but he stopped, looking down at her with weary eyes. "Can you trust me? Please?" he asked, and reluctantly she stepped further inside, allowing the door to close behind her.

Returning to his original position, he picked up his papers again and motioned towards the bed, "Sit."

Santana eyed it distrustfully, but decided she would not insult Matthew further and sat gingerly on the edge, "So you plan to work?"

"My exact instructions were to meet you here and take you as many times as I could manage before court let out. So yes, Santana, I plan to work."

"And the king won't be angry you disobeyed?" she challenged, wanting the assurance that he had thought his decision through thoroughly before she fully trusted it.

"How will he know? I can hardly see the man that needed the better part of seven years to sire a child trying to give me grief for an unsuccessful evening romp."

"I thought we had settled this some time ago," Santana said, irritated at the fact that the king had so easily given her body over due to his random whim.

"Once the king gets an idea in his head that he believes is a good one there is little anyone can do to change it. He knows that the notion upset the queen at first, so he has decided to hide it from her until the deed is done. The tragedy is he really does think he is doing a good thing by me, the queen and his child."

"So I must assume he is not concerned whether he has done right by me or not."

Matthew shook his head slowly, "He still doesn't remember your name."

"It's for the best." There was a brief silence before Santana spoke again, "Would you? Like a son, I mean." When his eyebrow went up she waved her hands, "Not that I'm offering."

He sighed and looked back to his papers, "Yes and no. I would like a family of my own, but I know that in this kingdom that is a dream that will never be. I would like a son to love and to teach, but the king is quite mistaken if he believes I would want to put a child into the same life I lead."

"I don't know, I think your position is one of the best possible for a slave."

His eyes fell a little as he said, "I would wish my burden on no man or woman, least of all a son of mine."

Understanding his meaning, she lay back on the bed, looking around at the various artwork and making attempts at reading the spines of the books in the corner closest to her. At the top of one stack was a book of traveler's lore, or at least she assumed it was, and it had a great beast on the cover, reminding her unpleasantly of Azimio.

Carefully she took the book and looked through its pages, seeing countless depictions of creatures and monsters. It seemed interesting and once again she felt the inadequacies of her schooling and the loss of what she had been taught, so she put it down, putting her mind elsewhere.

"Have you solved the problem with Azimio yet?"

"No," Matthew said distractedly, "There is no real plan for the time being. The king sovereign made it clear that Azimio was to stay and await his return, so he cannot be sent away or put in the dungeons, and again, he is our best chance in a battle, so he roams free. But I did speak to him about his duties, he hasn't bothered you since, has he?"

"Not directly, but he lurks nearby frequently."

He paused and glanced at her, "Then be careful in his presence."

* * *

When it was time for court to end Santana left, but not before pulling Matthew's shirt out of his pants to give him a more disheveled look. He had laughed and ruffled her hair before exiting, allowing her some time to leave after him.

Returning to the servants' stairwell she navigated her way back to court, only to find she had gotten turned around and ended up at the kitchens instead. It wasn't a problem since she knew how to get to court from there, but as she turned to backtrack she found a looming shadow in her way.

Azimio himself was standing in front of her with an expression that made every monster in the book she had looked through seem cute by comparison.

"Come with me," he said, and it wasn't a question.

Especially since his large hand grasped the back of her shirt and he hauled her alongside him like a scolded dog. They left the kitchens and marched through the armory where she saw Puck give a worried look before she was yanked along. As she trailed behind him, she realized where they were headed, and dread filled her. He was taking her to the understeward's shed, where slaves were beaten.

Where he had beaten a girl to death.

Santana attempted to struggle but was cuffed across the head so hard it made the world spin. He dragged her inside the smelly construct and shoved her to the ground; she sat, ready to take her chance to run.

He circled her, looking her over with predatory eyes, and for a moment she was tempted to ask what he wanted, but then he finally spoke.

"Where are Michael and Tina?" He said it with such ease she suspected he had either practiced the phrase to be understood better or had improved asking the question so much.

"I don't know-" again her head spun when he cuffed her for a second time - a jarred place in her head marveled at how he wasn't even trying to hit her as hard as he could. These were mere reprimands.

"I know you know. Others say you spoke with them often. Where are they?"

She knew saying she had no idea was going to get her hit once more, but to lie would imply that she knew something, and that would make her something to report to the king.

"I swear I don't know," she repeated, closing her eyes and preparing for another strike. But it didn't come, he only stood there with his eyes boring holes into her.

He cracked his neck and walked over to the far wall, that was still covered in the most painful looking devices, but he did not reach for one. Instead, he went for something white on the table against the wall.

At first glance she thought it was a statue of a naked woman, and realistically it was, though the buxom woman was merely a decorative carving in the hilt of a whip that she had never seen before. There were about eight or nine tendrils that fell from the end of it and ended in large knots, making them appear to be the hair of the woman engraved in the handle. It looked like a device for brushing away dirt more than causing pain, but her throbbing head told her no matter what it was, with his strength, it would hurt if she were hit.

Slowly, he approached again and knelt in front of her, "Tell me," he said simply.

She gulped, looking at the object in his hands and decided that there was no reasoning to be had. Quickly, she sprang to her feet and dashed to the door, desperate to get outside the shack; she had never run from a lashing before, but this one she knew was unsanctioned and could easily be fatal. Unfortunately, for all his size, Azimio was as nimble as she was and, with the finesse of a man much smaller than him, leapt up and shoved her forcefully back down.

He released the tendrils of hair and stood menacingly before her, "I will not ask this again. Where are they?"

In answer Santana leapt up again, this time hoping to put a distance between herself and her attacker and keep it there, but again he was faster. And this time his whip talked for him.

It had been her belief that he had held a whip, but when the ends of it hit her she immediately decided that the thing was tipped with magical blades, because it cut her flesh even with the barrier of her blouse.

With a yelp she hit the ground, panic and pain clouding her mind, keeping her still when she knew she had to run. By the time she worked that out Azimio was over her she curled up instinctively, exposing her back to another razor sharp slap.

The agony of it got her to move again and she ran once more for the door, and once more she was stopped, but this time Azimio caught her by the collar of her blouse and pulled her back.

"De king wants them back. Tell me where they are," he demanded, and before she was even given a chance to answer the heavy strike of the whip caught her back again and she couldn't breathe from the pain.

Desperate, she tried wrench free of her clothing, going as far as to try and rip it off, though he seemed unconcerned with her attempts. Then, as she twisted and squirmed, he yanked her shirt up for better access bunching it up by her neck choking her. She dangled from his hand like a small animal spinning slightly as she struggled to get free. When the whip flashed again he struck bare skin, but the strike missed her back and caught her half around the front, placing three cuts along her abdomen like the claws of a wild cat.

The lack of air, combined with the force and shocking pain of the whip on the tender skin of her stomach and side, made her vision blur and her ears ring loudly. Kicking desperately for purchase on the ground she managed a clean strike to his groin. To her misfortune, the act of kicking him between the legs was only enough to make him stagger and become mad enough to cuff her again. A blow that knocked the sense from her.

She was conscious but unaware, everything felt like it was slipping away and when he asked her a question she had no idea what it was even about. Words and reason escaped her, all she could see were angry, brown eyes and then a pain so sharp it made white lights pop in front of her vision.

And then, suddenly, she wasn't dangling painfully by her neck, she was on the ground behind Brittany, Azimio standing before them both looking like he was willing to strike the queen just to get to her. There was enough awareness in Santana to know she needed to stop that from happening, and with tremendous effort she got unsteadily to her feet. But she couldn't move forward, couldn't shout, couldn't even think of words to say had she been able to. To her fortune there was no need.

For the first time ever she was glad to see Karofsky and Archibald charge in, the larger man taking a hold of Azimio as the king exploded in anger at his near assault of the queen.

Santana's eyes wandered from that scene to the door where Puck stood, his face unreadable as he watched the tongue lashing being given out. Matthew was a few steps behind, looking rather upset, and she was dimly able to conclude that they must have been the reason she was found.

But as upset as Matthew and Puck were it was nothing compared to the woman who stood before her.

Brittany was in complete hysterics and it slowly dawned on Santana that the entire time she had been calling her, trying to get a response. Lazily she looked over the tear stained face and wanted to do something to make her happy again. She could hear Brittany, distantly, as if she were calling her from inside a room down a long hallway. The queen was calling frantically to her, but Santana didn't know what to say. As off as she was she knew there were things that couldn't be said anywhere at anytime, unfortunately she couldn't remember what those things were.

The queen lowered her to the ground and into her arms still calling for her to speak, but all Santana could do was simply lay there trembling and bleeding, unable to move and barely able to think.

And then, from the fog of her mind, Santana remembered the fox in the woods, how it had lay dying in Brittany's arms and it occurred to her that it had been the luckiest fox in the world. That before it went to the beyond it got to spend its final moments with someone who genuinely cared. How many foxes could claim that?

So it was with great importance that she looked up to the watery blue eyes and said, "I'm a lucky fox, too."

The words clearly worried the queen, but she seemed relieved to have received a response.

Before the blonde could reply, however, the king made his way over, leaving Karofsky to usher the understeward out, "Brittany, it's bleeding all over you," he said, sounding disgusted.

"And she will continue to until Beiste arrives," she replied stubbornly.

Archibald looked almost shocked, "My dear," he said as if explaining a simple fact to someone who should know better, "Beiste is a healer for the royals-"

"So she should have no trouble treating a servant," the queen replied and there was a steely, unyielding tone to her voice.

It was clear the king wanted to argue the point, but as he was determined to give his wife what she wanted he turned to Matthew and nodded. The other man vanished and Santana watched, wondering what sort of beast he would bring back.

"Maybe we should get you to-" the king tried, but Brittany wouldn't hear a word of it.

"She doesn't leave my sight," she growled with a ferocity that Santana was quite sure she had never witnessed from the other woman.

With a sound of resignation the king took a step back and together they waited for the healer to arrive.

By the time Beiste came Santana had gained most of her senses back, which was a little unfortunate, because her back was on fire and her head felt like she had been drinking for two days straight, but she had been through worse. Just not in so short a time.

The healer lifted her and they began to move swiftly. Brittany was beside Beiste, keeping pace with the larger woman until they reached the queen's rooms. Santana was a little surprised since there was a healers tent not far from the shed, to be taken to the queen's own chambers for treatment was quite unusual. Beiste ventured to say as much, but one look from Brittany silenced her.

She was brought inside, treated, and given a bitter tasting brew for pain that, like with Brittany, put her almost immediately to sleep.

Her sleep wasn't peaceful, though. As the day passed she woke into a foggy world of people she knew who were having discussions as if she wasn't there, and as far as they knew she wasn't.

The first time she woke it was to Archibald shouting about a servant laying bloodied in the queen's bed, but Brittany silenced him with the argument that he had already agreed they could share. It wasn't the point he had been making, but he conceded anyway.

The next time she woke it was to the feeling of Brittany at her bedside, slowly stroking her hair while crying softly. She wanted to wake completely then, to reach out and tell her everything would be fine, to explain that it wasn't the worst beating she'd had by far, to be the pillar of strength Brittany had been for her when Santana had found her hurt. But instead she was pulled back into a dreamless sleep.

When her eyes opened again it was again to a barrage of sound coming from outside the door. She wasn't sure if Brittany was with her, but it sounded like the halls were filled with people, all shouting back and forth to one another.

It was odd, but not enough to pull her from her fog and after that she finally was able to fall into a deep sleep that carried her through the night.

* * *

Morning came and Santana opened her eyes to find that, though it was pounding to the point of feeling as though it would split, her mind was clear.

And how glad she was for it when she turned to find Brittany next to her, still asleep, her hair falling gently over her shoulders and framing her relaxed, carefree face.

It was almost unbelievable that such beauty was hers to observe and she realized with a fluttering heart that this was the first time she had woken next to her queen. And that with the upcoming winter this could be the first time of many.

After giving the room a careful sweep with her eyes, she leaned over, ignoring the protest from her back and side, and kissed the blonde until she woke to return it. But the exchange was short as Brittany sat up and looked her over, distress returning to her face as she remembered the previous day.

"How are you feeling?" she asked immediately.

"Surprisingly well, considering," Santana replied as she climbed out of bed and crossed the room to the dresser where she saw her blouse and pants folded neatly.

Brittany clambered out of bed as well, moving to Santana's side as if it were her duty. The smaller woman only smiled and leaned over and gave her another kiss.

"Go back to sleep, mi reina, I'm fine."

"You aren't," she said, tears almost immediately springing to her eyes.

Santana unfolded her shirt to put it on and saw that the back was blood covered and tattered, the whip had in fact torn her shirt. Her back and side had been heavily bandaged, but moving aside the one around her stomach she could see she had been fixed up quite nicely. The salve on her wounds was similar to what had been used when Karofsky had beaten her, but it was far better at suppressing pain and smelled much nicer. She supposed it was the difference in the care of slaves in comparison to the care given to royals.

"I have been hurt far worse before, really, his knocks to the head pained me more," she said, rubbing the lump that she now knew to have grown on her temple.

Brittany took a step closer, "And what about Matthew?"

Santana's brow furrowed, "What about Matthew?"

"Artie told me he… that he sent you to-"

"Oh!" she said, suddenly understanding, "No, no, he did not touch me," she said, taking Brittany's cheeks in her hands and looking deep into her eyes to convey her sincerity.

The queen let out a relieved sigh while looking like she was afraid to believe it, "He didn't?"

"I sat in his room and talked with him about his books… and my need to avoid Azimio," she said, looking at her bandages.

Brittany smiled her first real, exuberant smile of the morning and kissed Santana happily, "I was so scared he had forced himself on you. I didn't think that at all like him, but when Artie told me I let my imagination run away with me."

"Don't worry yourself any longer," she said, pulling on the tattered shirt as she had nothing else to leave in.

"I thought you were dying," Brittany said quietly, relief, sadness and fear in her voice, "I had you in my arms and I thought I'd lost you."

"But you didn't," Santana replied easily to lighten the mood in the room.

"Artie scolded Azimio and warned him to never do that again, but I'm still afraid for you to go."

Santana turned and hugged her despite how it made her ache slightly all over, "I'm going to go clean myself and eat and you should rest until I return. Azimio will not catch me again, I promise." And she meant it, she would do anything to keep her queen from feeling so sorry for her again.

"I worry sometimes, that it will always be like this," she said, moving to sit on the bed, "Where we watch each other suffer and can do nothing about it. This is why I feel like the worst kind of person for wanting you to stay."

With an easy smile, she knelt before the queen, taking soft hands into her own, "But you didn't ask me, you gave me the choice and I chose to stay."

"But I wonder if you would choose the same thing if you had another chance," she said and Santana was surprised to see she was quite serious.

"I'm quite sure I would," she said, knowing that there was nowhere else she would rather be, bleeding backside or no.

* * *

The moment Santana had stepped out of the queen's chambers and into her own to fetch a clean shirt she knew things were different. Soldiers dashed up and down the halls quickly, all clearly eager to get somewhere. The servants' passages were busier than usual considering how early it was and the river was almost free of any company; even though the morning was chilly there were usually still a few out to bathe.

The dining hall was the same, few servants were there to eat and the ones that were gulped their food down as if someone was planning to take it.

She was a little surprised to see Matthew still lingering, whenever busy people were to be found he was usually the busiest. Today he merely sat, looking at the usual stew next to Puck who was eating heartily.

"Good morning, what is all the commotion?" Santana asked, sitting across from them.

"West attacked," Puck answered through a mouthful of food.

Santana was startled, wondering why Brittany hadn't said something. Then again, why would she have? What did it matter?

"Did they attack the castle?"

"No," Matthew answered, "They came inland and attacked one of our outposts, killing everyone there. The king is furious."

"In a complete rage," Puck added.

Her fear for the queen must have shown in her face, because Matthew waved a hand, "He has not gone to seek retribution on his wife, he merely means to hand the castle over to the enemy."

That news shocked her, "Really?"

Puck finished his food and belched heavily, "No, he just don't agree with the king's choice," he said before standing to leave, "Gotta get back to work, lotsa things need makin'."

She watched him go before looking back at Matthew, "What is the king's choice?"

Pushing his bowl aside, he looked to Santana with the eyes of a man who had seen too much, "The king plans to attack the raiders, personally, on what is essentially their home land. The entire attack is most likely a ruse to have us send out our best fighting force, but little do they know our king plans to deliver himself as well."

Santana tried to keep the grin off her face, "And how is this bad? The king rides off into battle and falls for a trap he was simple enough to fall for."

"Assuming he isn't killed, then the castle will be taken hostage and he will be required to yield, if he does not they will begin to kill castle inhabitants until he does, starting with the queen. Especially now that she carries a legitimate heir. Nevermind the danger it puts us all in. And let's say it isn't a trap at all, merely an aggressive move and he manages to repress it, all he will have proved is that he is headstrong, foolish and impulsive. And with Azimio being so unpredictable this may all culminate in one man killing all his allies right out of the gate," he snapped his breath, heaving with anger.

She still hoped the king met his end on the tip of a barbed sword, but she did not like what the repercussions meant for the queen, "We should get ready to see our masters to their morning meal," was her only reply.

* * *

When she and Matthew had parted ways the man was still quite worked up, and when she brought Brittany down to her meal they had yet to arrive.

It was when the queen was partway finished that the doors burst open to a tumult of arguing between Archibald and Matthew who were followed at a distance by Karofsky and Sunshine.

"Then tell me what you gain!" Matthew was practically shouting, "Name one thing you gain by riding off and leaving the castle unprotected!"

"Respect!" he shouted back, equally as incensed, "I hear what is said about me! I cannot have the entire kingdom thinking you are the sole reason for my success, it is time for me to rule on my own, do what _I_ think is right."

"Is it worth losing this entire war over?!"

"Matthew, watch your words! I value your opinion, but I will not have you imply that I am not skilled in battle!"

The darker man looked like he might burst into flames with rage, "No matter your skill it is still possible to lose and a loss here will kill us."

"It will not! And you haven't even heard the entirety of my plan!"

"Then explain it!"

"It is for the council to hear, I do not need to explain it to you first!" he snapped before sitting heavily in his seat.

Brittany and Santana pretended not to listen to the exchange, even though they were hanging on every word. So when he finished his meal and called for Brittany, Santana was wary and quite aware of where the table knives were.

The queen walked to where her husband sat and once she arrived he stood and beckoned for her to follow, "Come, we are going to council."

Brittany blinked in surprised, as did Santana, "My lord?" the queen asked as she fell into step next to him Santana close on her heels.

"I am leaving by nightfall. Since this campaign may run for a time I give you permission to use my quarters to rest for the health of the baby - and yes, your damn servant can sleep with you," he snapped when she looked like she might interject, "I will leave Matthew to guide you while I am gone, trust his council," Santana had to physically suppress a scoff. "Karofsky will be with me, but I am leaving Azimio here. Do not worry, I have spoken with him and it is as Matthew suspected, he merely wants to be returned to the position he held before my father left. I have informed him hurting you or your servants without permission will only keep him from such a position, his redemption lies in protecting the castle. He understands, so do not worry."

"And if he doesn't?" Brittany asked.

"He does," the king replied before approaching the large council doors and pushing them open.

Santana followed Brittany inside, once again marveling at how unnecessarily grand the whole thing was.

The old men in the room had been talking amongst themselves, but when the king entered the room fell silent.

Walking directly up to his honored position, he pulled Brittany to stand by his chair while Santana fetched her one. "My lords," he said loudly, not bothering to take a seat even as Brittany did, "As you have all known since last night, we have been attacked, and as you also know I plan to retaliate personally."

"And _you_ must know we find that decision foolish," the familiar old man in the front center row said.

"I do, but let me inform you I plan to do far more than retaliate. I plan to raid the north." With those words the room went abuzz with talk. "I will take my troops and acquire the furs this castle needs and more, then I will descend to the western outpost before word can be sent out and quell that foolish act of rebellion. I will do all this, my lords, and return home victoriously."

The old man in front seemed too flabbergasted to talk, so the equally old man next to him spoke instead, "You wish to split our forces, to go into northern territory to raid them for supplies they know we will come for, and then, with your remaining manpower, ride a moon's turn southwest to our overthrown outpost to fight again?"

The front center councilman found his voice before Archibald could answer, "You will be taking half the furs we are already so short on and should you fail in your first endeavor you will have killed us all. The nobles will rebel, there will be chaos."

"So I won't fail," he said easily.

Santana chanced a glance at Matthew who was pinching the bridge of his nose as if hearing the words hurt him.

"You arrogant- how can you say that when you have never been in battle?!"

"My lords, we can argue this further, but you have given me permission to do as I wish, so it shall be done. I will raid the north, I will send the acquired furs home and swear those not killed in battle under my banner. The north will fall and join me to crush the small outpost, our numbers will overwhelm them and we will be home before the word has spread that we left. All I need from you today is to acknowledge my regent."

All the eyes in the room then turned to Brittany and Santana wanted badly to duck behind her chair.

"You are sure you wish to name _Queen Brittany_ your regent?" the first old man asked as if maybe Archibald was unaware of how stupid they thought her.

"I am."

"Then it is so," the old man sighed, seeming to come to the same resignation that Matthew had.

With that he swept from the room, Karofsky and Matthew tailing after. Brittany rose and followed, Santana behind her, not saying a word until they were well down the hall and away from other's ears.

"I thought he might do that," she said sadly.

"Do what? Name you regent?"

"Yes."

"That means you have all of the power of a king until he returns, doesn't it?"

"Yes, or should he die or be gone too long, until his child comes of age."

Santana still saw sadness in her and it was confusing, "That sounds like a good thing, right?"

"It means that until he returns I hold his power, and, though the council would never allow me to release them all, I could set a few servants free... I could set _you_ free," she said softly.

The queen was obviously unsure and worried that her lover may ask her to exercise her newfound power as soon as possible, but Santana only laughed.

"I'm quite happy right where I am," she said, gently taking Brittany's hand and giving a reassuring squeeze, "I know things will always be hard, and I cannot show the world how I love you, but please know I never want to leave you."

Brittany brightened again and took Santana's arm in hers before leading her down the hall that would take them to court.

It was a strange feeling to know that this would be the last day that the queen would be second to any man. That when the sun rose the next morning she would be the lone ruler of the Abrams Kingdom.

* * *

A/N: So Brittany's going to be large and in charge for a spell. You may wonder why Archibald would give her that power but I think it's kinda obvious, then again I'm writing this so it would be. However Matthew may have some words to speak on why in future chapters if it isn't super clear .

And in case you're wondering (and you probably aren't): Yes Azimio is rockin a Cat o' Nine Tails.

Your feedback is most welcome.


	17. Chapter 17

There was a certain amount of flourish Santana expected to see when the king left.

She thought he would leave with great fanfare, following a celebration feast as had been done with his parents. Instead, the king left after troops and slaves alike scrambled to prepare for their upcoming journey. By first light the he had gone without saying so much as a hasty goodbye to the woman who carried his child - not that she or Santana actually cared.

For her part, Santana was merely pleased to see the man leave, from her vantage point on the narrow walkways atop the castle walls she watched his golden banners vanish into the distance. All while wishing thoroughly that he be killed by the first northerner he came across.

After being sure he was well and truly gone, Santana left her narrow perch and went to eat her morning meal. She found Matthew and Puck seated, eating with much more relaxation than they had the previous morning and when she sat down across from them Puck smiled widely at her.

"Tis a grand morning, is it not?"

"It is," she said casually, as if it was of no matter to her whether the king stayed or not.

"It's going to be a busy day, so I hope you're ready," Matthew said, and when Santana shot him a confused look he clarified, "You are now a lady in waiting to a queen regent, that means her daily schedule will more closely resemble the king's and the king was a busy man."

That surprised Santana, when she pictured his day she always thought of him marching through the halls, smacking random slaves and complaining about how no one was doing anything right. She supposed there had to be more to it than that.

"I'm ready."

"Hope yer, ah, special someone knows you'll be spendin' more time out," Puck said rather obviously leaving off an identifying pronoun.

Santana gave him a warning glare, but Matthew had already caught on, "Santana, I didn't realized you were involved with someone," he said with startled interest.

"I- er…"

"You don't have to tell me who it is," he laughed, "I'm simply surprised there is someone you are that close to, for a while I thought you and Puck were a pair."

"We were sorta," Puck said with a shrug and Santana threw her spoon at him without giving the action a second thought.

"OW! What, was it a secret? We ain't no more, so I thought it was okay to say," he grumbled, rubbing the spot on his forehead where her utensil had bounced off.

Matthew chuckled, "Leave her be, Puck."

"What did I do?" he complained, looking between the two of them.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Matthew asked, changing the topic for her benefit.

Knowing he was referring to her wounds, she shrugged, "With Beiste treating me I'm feeling as good as one who was beaten can feel."

"I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner," Matthew apologized, a genuine sorrow in his eyes.

"I'm surprised you found me at all," she said, recalling the way he and Puck had been present, "How did you manage that anyway?"

"Puck," he said while nodding towards the man that was still shoveling food into his mouth. "After Archibald told the queen what he believed we had been doing she became rather desperate to find you. I informed her that you would be along shortly and when you didn't appear… she became rather frantic."

Puck almost choked laughing through his mouthful of food, "Completely crazed's more like it, I heard her callin' for you n' told her where you were. I saw you gettin' dragged off and figured you'd really messed up bad. Shoulda known he was up to no good."

Santana smiled at his indignation on her behalf and finished her meal quickly so as to get to her queen's side as soon as possible. However, when she left the dining hall she found she had Matthew right on her heels and realized suddenly that she was now one of two people responsible for the queen.

With a pang of irritation, she entered the queen's bed chambers and shook her awake, making sure to keep a good distance from the bed since Brittany often liked to scoop Santana into her arms upon first waking to shower her with kisses, something that would be a terrible idea in the presence of the king's trusted advisor.

Her eyes fluttered open and found Santana a good distance away, confusion crawled over her features and the smaller woman understood her puzzlement. Quickly she cut her eyes to Matthew and Brittany's eyes followed slowly, and upon seeing him her expression melted into one of simple politeness.

"Good morning," the queen said to both of them.

"Morning, majesty," Matthew replied stepping forward, "There is much to tend to, so shall we start the day?"

"I suppose as regent I couldn't have a while longer to sleep, could I?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm afraid the king often requested the same and was denied it as well."

With a pout she sat up and began to pull her nightgown off, an action that made Matthew blush more furiously than Santana had ever thought possible.

"I think I will wait outside until you are ready," he said and left the room with astonishing speed.

Once he was gone Santana chuckled slightly and helped Brittany remove her night clothes all the way. Now disrobed, she smiled up at Santana, "I thought he would never leave," she said, pulling her lover close for a deep kiss.

"You could have just told him you needed your privacy," Santana laughed before kissing her again.

"Talking takes too long," Brittany mumbled against her lips before returning the same treatment.

"We still have to get you dressed."

With an unhappy groan Brittany allowed herself to be maneuvered into a dress and as she was laced up the other servants entered the room followed by Beiste. They prepared her for the day and soon they met Matthew out in the hallway before he led them down the hall in a direction Santana had never been before.

While he walked ahead of them Matthew spoke clearly over his shoulder, "I will have the servants relocate your things to the king's chambers, they should be ready for you by tonight. As for right now, we need to discuss the war-"

"Sorry?" Brittany said, slowing a bit, "Isn't that what Artie is doing?"

"Yes, but while he is away you are the one that the king sovereign will be keeping in contact with. Furthermore, the king had many issues left unresolved when he departed and you will need to make some decisions regarding those things."

Brittany looked worried, but Santana discreetly gave her hand a brief squeeze to gain her attention and then threw her an encouraging smile; the queen smiled back and increased her stride, looking far more confident in herself.

Matthew led them to a room down the hall from the overly large council room doors, the inside was spacious; it contained a stockpile of papers and books, one table, and a large comfortable looking chair.

Sitting easily, Brittany looked to Matthew for instructions, but he was looking at Santana with a critical eye, "My queen, it isn't customary for servants to be present during these sessions, Santana can wait on you from the balcony," he said, indicating the ledge high above where they sat.

"You're a servant, are you not?" Brittany asked simply.

"I am indeed, but I have been given special privilege to-"

"Then I grant her special privilege as well," she replied swiftly.

"The council barely allows me to know all that I do, if they knew of her involvement as well…" he said, trailing off to let her draw her own conclusion.

"Then don't tell them, as far as anyone outside this room is concerned Santana is in the rafters, now tell me of all these things that need my attention," she said with a stubborn edge to her voice that let them know the matter was past discussion.

Matthew looked like he wished to argue the point further, but merely sighed and walked to the far side of the room to retrieve a stack of parchment.

"First, I must inform you of the king sovereign's progress, which is not what we had hoped for at this point, but it is progress nonetheless. The queen sovereign is ill, possibly with the same ailment that afflicts your father, and it has caused him to lose focus."

Brittany looked saddened by the news, "He loves her so much, I hope she pulls through."

Matthew nodded, though it seemed more out of a desire not to seem insensitive than actual distress, "Indeed. So far we have not told him as to what extent things have gone awry here. The most he knows is that the border territories are still agitated."

Santana hoped the next thing out of her mouth would be to inform Matthew that they were going to tell the king sovereign everything. Instead the queen nodded and moved on.

"What of the fur and heating situation?" Brittany asked.

"Well, we are currently preparing the barracks to house the male servants and soldiers while the women stay on the opposite side in a storage room that used to keep our winter furs. We were going to put them in the unused stables, but since the king very nearly emptied the storeroom with his departure we are setting up there. He did so in the belief that he would be able to send us more soon, but until such time we have practically no furs. All we can do is use controlled fires to keep the two rooms warm."

She nodded and thought for a moment, "Is there truly no one we can ask for help?"

"The king has managed to upset every one of his father's longtime loyal castellans."

"Even if they knew the request came from me and not him?"

Matthew considered that for a while, then shook his head, "I did say the South was our only remaining ally, but in that I meant they were the only region that had not shown open hostility since their initial attack, and therefore may possibly be reasoned with. It is my belief that they are still very much against us."

Santana watched Brittany continue to think through her options, wanting to be able to come up with something that would be of help to her. The room was silent for a long moment as Matthew shuffled some papers, clearly ready to move on, but Brittany suddenly smiled as it seemed she had an idea.

"I remember my homeland getting quite cold," she said enthusiastically.

Matthew frowned at that and placed the papers he had picked up back on the table, "Yes, it is."

"Then that means they have furs, which means the king sovereign has furs, we can merely petition him to send over a shipment."

Santana thought that a brilliant proposition, but she could tell right away from Matthew's expression that it wasn't that simple, "My lady, if we ask him for furs he will want to know why we haven't received any from the North and then we will be forced to explain the situation here."

Once more the smaller woman did not see why that was such a problem, but kept her mouth shut anyway.

"Then tell him what you must. Tell him our fur stores caught fire or that my pregnancy has made me unreasonable and I demand far more furs than the North can provide, or that there is blockage on the trade route and they will not arrive in time. Whatever lie is easiest to cover, because even though my husband may well do as he said, I refuse to leave the fates of the people of this kingdom to the outcome of his brash actions."

Both Santana and Matthew stared at her in complete shock and awe.

"Uh…" Matthew said, clearly at a loss, "Yes, alright, I'll have them sent for."

"Good, now what is the next matter?" she asked simply.

He seemed unsure as he looked down at the papers in his hands as if he were still rather stunned that she had solved the problem that easily, "We… there's a, um… Defense!" he said, suddenly remembering, "Castle defense, the king left without giving a detailed outline of how we are to handle spreading the remaining troops. Part of the issue originated in us having to limit the number of guards out at any given time due to the fur shortage. Now it would merely be a matter of deciding how to spread out our forces."

She frowned, "I know nothing of how best to place the troops, so I will leave that to the captain of the guard, just be sure Azimio is placed as far from myself and Santana as possible."

Matthew considered her a moment and Santana could tell he was quite impressed with her ability to make decisions.

And as the day went on even Santana found herself surprised.

They made it through Matthew's stack of problems in little time and soon were on their way to another room Santana had never seen before. It was a large greeting room whose purpose was similar to that of the court except it was for those rich enough to warrant the personal attention of the royals.

Here lords and ladies came to sit and give long winded speeches which mostly amounted to 'Please give us money and/or furs'. Brittany would sit and listen politely to their concerns and nod at the appropriate moments, she showed them all the utmost respect even though their requests and concerns could get quite outrageous or rather silly. However, even when she declined to give them what they wanted she did it with such regret they often left offering her their apologies for even asking.

Later, when it was time for council, it turned out that the meetings were little more than a quiz of what had happened earlier in the day. Brittany explained her plans for their soldiers and told them which wealthy families they were or were not paying and why. However, when she informed them that they were to receive furs from the king sovereign the room went into an uproar.

Apparently the plan had been to keep him in the dark as to his son's actions until the issue was resolved, to show what state the kingdom was in would surely prompt the man to return immediately. Brittany had merely smiled sweetly and told them that she only requested them as a precaution and that the king sovereign would know nothing more than that.

They had looked like they wanted to argue over it, but the overwhelming, obvious truth was that no one believed in the king's ability to send enough furs in time. So the old men had frowned and whispered amongst themselves and decided that as it was her first day as regent they would allow her to make the request.

As if they were doing her some sort of favor. As if every one of them wouldn't benefit from what she was doing. As if every person in the room wasn't aware that she had probably made a decision that would save all their lives.

Santana watched her play their game like she had done it her whole life and when she left and went to court she sat through an endless line of people, all asking some special consideration, with ease. Matthew was always at her side, but with every person that arrived she seemed to need his guidance less and less.

When they were finally free of the court, Santana was eager to be alone with her queen as her evenings were usually completely free, but as a ruler it turned out that free evenings were no longer a luxury Brittany could indulge in. There were what seemed to be a never ending line of officials to meet with before she was ushered off to discuss the crown's finances. She had no idea how Brittany wasn't breaking down before the end of it since Santana wasn't even being asked to do anything and she was ready to scream by the time they were ready to travel to the bath house.

Their journey was short since, with the queen being given access to the king's quarters, they were able to go into his private bathing room to find it even more large and luxurious than the one the queen had been using. And Santana had thought that one to be overly excessive. The room was well-lit and the walls had shelves housing a variety of oils, bath salts, and other things she couldn't even identify. In Santana's opinion it was far too large and stocked with entirely too many items, even when taking into account that it was for two people. There was an ivory tub set into the marble floor that resembled a pond more than anything.

All she could think was how hard it must be to empty and clean.

The tub was filled with steaming water and Brittany gave an exhausted sigh as she lowered herself into it. Santana watched, rubbing her forehead, trying to ease the tension that had built since the morning while the queen merely lounged in the water, not even reaching for her cloth as she sat back against one corner and closed her eyes.

"Will every day be this trying?" Santana asked as she too took a moment to relax from her seat by the tub.

The blonde cracked open an eye, "Are you as worn out as I am?"

"Somehow," Santana laughed.

"Then join me," she said before closing her eye again as if it had been the simplest request in the world.

"I don't think I should…" Santana replied, eyeing the door warily as if she expected someone to come in.

"We are quite alone," the queen said softly, lifting an arm and waving her over lazily, "Come."

Looking back at the door one final time, Santana quickly disrobed, almost ripping her bindings and bandages off, and joined Brittany, sitting stiffly at the opposite corner. The hot water made her wounds burn, but in a soothing way.

Blue eyes opened and considered her with amusement, "Don't tell me you've become shy now."

A light heat colored Santana's cheeks as she curled up slightly - she wasn't shy, but she wasn't in a mood to expose her back either.

"I can enjoy myself here."

Brittany sat up, a frown in place as she considered Santana, as if staring could help her discern the problem.

"Come here," she said, it was a request and not an unkind one, but it was full of a curiosity.

Knowing avoiding her would be pointless Santana stood and trudged through the water to Brittany's side. The moment she exposed her belly she knew the queen had seen the angry cuts along her stomach and the expression her lover gave her was one of pure regret.

"I did not think of your wounds!" she gasped, and stood as if there was something she could do for them.

"I would have had to wash them anyway, hot water is better than cold, the river is like ice these days."

Looking stern, she sat Santana down, grabbed her cloth and began to wash the smaller woman in earnest. Already knowing her lady in waiting would protest she gave her a challenging stare that made Santana keep her mouth closed as she worked.

Brittany took extreme care of her back, washing thoroughly and carefully, never once aggravating the slashes that were carved into the darkened skin. After a time Santana was able to calm and lean into her touch, allowing Brittany to wash away her aches and pains. In the silence all she heard was the gentle waves of the water and soft breathing. The queen washed her from head to toe, even her hair and most intimate areas were given attention, though the blonde's intense focus kept it from becoming anything more than a cleaning.

Once she had finished Santana retrieved a fresh cloth to finally do her duty, but Brittany merely took it from her and began to wash herself.

"If you do everything for yourself then what purpose do I have?" Santana laughed.

"You do more than enough for me," Brittany said, a serious tone in her voice.

She shrugged, "It is my duty, and even if it wasn't I would want to do everything I could for you."

Brittany merely smiled and continued to wash her face.

"Why-" Santana began but halted when the queen's eyes found hers, for some reason she hesitated to question anything that had happened that day.

"Yes?"

The tone was inviting enough to prompt Santana to continue, "Why do you protect him?" she asked and they both knew who, "You could merely write the king sovereign and tell him what has been happening. If he had to come home in the middle of a war campaign he would probably be furious enough to deny his son the throne and pass it to your child instead."

She chuckled slightly at the notion, "He very well might. But it isn't that I am protecting Artie, if I told his father and he came home he _would_ be punished severely. However, he would know it was I who told his father and what do you think he would do then."

Santana shuddered at the thought, "Best to keep silent then," she said abruptly. Watching Brittany for a moment longer, she moved closer to her and held out a hand, "At least allow me to wash your back."

With a small huff she handed the cloth over and Santana smiled widely as she washed her gently.

For all her protests Brittany seemed to enjoy the sensation almost as much as Santana had and the brunette took all the time in the world to make sure her queen had the cleanest skin in the land before relinquishing control back to her.

After, Brittany allowed her to fetch them towels from the seemingly endless supply, though she did insist on being allowed to dry Santana off. Something that failed to have the same innocence as the washing. They kissed slowly in the quiet of the room, Santana half wrapped in a towel, panting at the way Brittany's lips trailed from her neck to her collar bone. But before she could gain control and return the soft touches Brittany had dried off and was pulling on the night clothes that waited at the ready for her.

Santana pulled on her shirt and pants, but merely collected her old bandages to be thrown away so she could put on fresh ones before she went to bed.

Since the bathing room and the royal's bed chambers were across the hall from one another the walk back to the queen's new room was no walk at all.

When she opened the door and escorted the queen inside she saw that the bedroom was an even grander testament to the royal's opulence than the tub. The room was enormous, rivaling the servant's dining hall in size, and at the back center was a bed large enough for ten, framed in sheets of red silk that contrasted the black and gold that covered the bed. There was an area that was clearly set aside for the queen to be dressed and made up, as well as a portion of the room dedicated to books with a small yet beautiful desk in the center. In one corner Santana saw her own meager possessions stacked on top of the small night stand that usually sat in her room. It looked out of place next to the large, intricate carvings in the expensive wood that every item in the room seemed to be made out of.

The queen walked the considerable distance to the bed and sat on the edge before asking, "Do you have fresh bandages?"

Looking over at the small table she saw her bandages and ointment had been brought as well, so she nodded, "I'll put them on now."

"Bring them here," Brittany said and Santana did as she was asked without complaint.

Showing the same care she had in washing them, the queen placed the ointment on each cut before carefully wrapping them up. She traced her fingers gently over the it once she had finished, looking sad and distant.

"I should have never let this happen to you."

"It wasn't your fault," Santana said easily.

Without a response Brittany held her close and closed her eyes, her breath hot on Santana's skin. She almost sighed in relief when the queen finally kissed her shoulder.

Their embrace was broken, however, by a loud knock at the door.

Santana almost fell in her rush to retrieve her shirt and yanked it on, putting most of the buttons through the wrong holes. Brittany only laughed a little, pulling her close and redoing them slowly before tucking her shirt in and pulling her down for another kiss that wasn't readily returned as Santana's attention was firmly on the door.

Releasing her to put distance between them, Brittany finally turned and called out, "Enter!"

The door opened slowly and in came Matthew, looking somewhat nervous, as though he might catch the queen in a state of undress again, but seeing her in her night clothes seemed to soothe him. Straightening, he walked up to her and gave a stiff bow.

"Is everything to your liking?"

"Why did you bring that?" Brittany asked, pointing to Santana's dour nightstand.

"Majesty, she needs somewhere to put her things," he said, confusion clouding his face.

"What's wrong with that?" she pointed to the large, black chest of drawers sitting against the far wall, "Was there no room after my things were brought over?"

"No, there are still several free drawers," he spoke as if he truly did not see where she was going with her line of questioning.

"Then I will have her put her clothes in one of them, please have that removed from the room."

Matthew looked like he might be in pain, "My lady, it is not at all customary for a servant-"

"Matthew," she said warningly, "I have had a harrowing day observing every custom this castle has to offer, would it really be so difficult to allow this?"

He faltered and glanced to Santana who was trying for all the world to not look like someone whose skin was still burning where the queen had kissed her, "I suppose not, it is equally unusual to have a servant's furnishings in the royal bed chamber. I will remove it immediately."

Without another word he turned and emptied the drawer, Santana following to take the items from him, and left the room, taking it with him. Unsure of what to do she stood in place after he left, holding all of her possessions until Brittany stood and opened a drawer for her.

"You can put your things here," she said with a kind smile.

Santana did as she was asked but with great concern, "I know you want good things for me," she said quietly, "but if you continue to behave this way I worry someone may come to understand our relationship better than we would like."

"That may be true for someone else, but everyone in this kingdom thinks I barely have a thought in my head and I have requested stranger things for servants. My preceding reputation will be our saving grace."

Santana would have argued, but she figured if Brittany was willing to risk both their lives on this then it must be a safe assumption to make.

Matthew returned once more to be sure everything was as the queen wanted it and, once assured she was satisfied, left again for the night.

Waiting to be sure he was well and truly gone, Santana finally undressed to change into her night clothes. The queen watched her every move carefully, as if to memorize the way her muscles moved as she pulled on the long nightgown.

When she had finished Brittany crawled under the sheets and held them open, indicating that Santana should join her. Quickly, she closed the distance between them and lay next to her lover half expecting to be swept up in more passionate kisses, but instead Brittany only pulled her close and seemed to fall asleep the moment Santana was secure under her arm.

A light smile on her lips, Santana scooted closer and gave the blonde a kiss on the forehead, "Sleep well, mi reina," she said softly before nestling into her, relishing in the delicious softness of the sheets and pillows and the warmth of the woman holding her in a tight embrace.

* * *

Santana woke first as was her habit and was about to rise to take her morning meal when she realized that Brittany had wrapped both arms around her in the night, pulling them even closer together. Looking up, she nuzzled the blonde's neck, placing kisses along the way in the hopes of waking her. However, after she had traced her lips over all of the exposed skin she began to fear she was incapable of waking her that way, until she placed one last one on the crook of her neck to find the queen's pulse racing.

Leaning back, she craned her neck up, frowning at the face of the woman she now knew wasn't sleeping, "Were you waiting to see how far I would go?"

"Would you be angry if I said yes?"

With a laugh Santana sat up and looked down at playful, blue eyes, "You wish to make me late to my meal."

"Not just yours," she said, sitting up and capturing Santana's lips with her own, "but mine as well."

Deciding that as long as she ate quickly she could spare a moment, Santana returned the affection, pressing lightly into the woman below her, earning a soft moan. But her advances were cut short as the queen gave her a final kiss before pushing her back.

"If you do that we truly will be found out, because I will not be able to stop," Brittany said with a chuckle, "Go, eat and return to me."

She didn't know why, but the way the queen said those words made her want to skip her meal altogether and cater to her every need.

It was with great reluctance that she rose and went to the servant's dining hall where she saw Matthew sitting alone. Looking around, she saw all the other tables were quite crowded and it occurred to her for the first time that Matthew couldn't be all that popular with the other servants in the kingdom since it was more than apparent he was the one to give the king his strength.

Slowly she approached and sat next to him to find the man pouring over more documents as was his habit. She placed her bowl down with more force than necessary to alert him to her presence and it worked as he turned to look at her with startled eyes.

"Santana, good morning. Did you sleep well?"

_Better than I have in ages_, "Well enough."

"The queen, she has a habit of treating servants so well it makes them uncomfortable, but don't worry you are in good hands."

Santana had to suppress a chuckle, "I trust her."

"Good," he said before returning to his papers.

"Will today be anything like yesterday?"

Without turning from his papers he said, "Almost identical, so goes the life of a ruler."

Santana took a bite of her tasteless stew and nodded to the letter he held, "What are you reading?"

"Letters from nobles in nearby villages requesting various things."

She nodded before looking around at how empty their table was, "Do you think that maybe if you didn't do things like read letters from nobles the other castle servants may warm to you more?"

He frowned, looking up, as if realizing for the first time that everyone seemed to be avoiding him, "No, it isn't my reading that is the problem. As a port town Castle Abrams has quite a few slaves that originally hailed from lands where even the poor are taught to read. Michael and Tina could not only read, but were well versed in the king's tongue when they came, though for the longest they pretended to not speak a word of it."

"Then why does everyone seem to want nothing to do with you?" she asked.

Placing the papers down he looked into the bowl before him, "It would be because I am the one who brought quite a few of them here."

Santana had not expected that answer at all, "What?"

With an unapologetic stare he turned to her, "I am the one who chooses what slaves are accepted into the service of the royals and which are not. I chose Sunshine, Michael and Tina over others, their fates could have been different if my choice had been."

"You brought them here?" she asked incredulously, "How could they stand to sit next to you?"

"Because they realized what I hoped everyone would eventually; that no matter who chose them as servants their story would not be a happy one. I picked only Michael at first, but then Tina as well since it was clear it would break him to be separated from her."

"And you gave her to the king?"

"No, he saw her and decided her fate, Michael was to attend him originally."

And for the first time Santana started to see the enormity of the weight he bore, "Why does Puck still trust you?"

"He was born into this life and cares nothing for gossip, however, the same cannot be said for others who were not chosen by me. They listen to the words of the ones who were and make sure to not speak to me."

"That's foolish."

"Would you still think so if I said I chose you, too?"

That caused her to give him another surprised look, "Did you?"

He nodded, "I read the Evans' plea for more time to move in exchange for a slave they could no longer afford to keep."

Matthew spoke as if his choice had been cold and uncaring, but she had learned to think more of him than that, "Why did you accept?"

"Because the king sovereign requested I find the princess a new lady in waiting."

"Why did you _really_ accept?" she asked kindly.

His eyes went back to his paper as if he were embarrassed, "Because if they couldn't afford you then they would probably sell you for next to nothing to someone who would treat you equal to what he paid. I thought at the least the princess would never purposefully harm you."

There was silence between them for a while as he went back to reading, but Santana merely considered what he had said.

"If you had told me that when I first came here I think I might have been like everyone else, hating you silently from afar, but now…" she stopped and glanced at him to find he was paying close attention, "I think it was the best thing that could have happened to me."

She could tell the smile that fell onto his face was allowed grudgingly.

Clearing his throat, he turned back to his documents, "I'm glad."

Sighing she returned to her meal, taking several more bites before turning to him again, "I've been wondering something," when he glanced over at her with a questioning stare she continued, "Why did the king leave the castle in the queen's care?" she asked quietly. "I would think him one to believe her too foolish to be able to run things well."

Matthew gave a genuine smile at that, "He does, he thinks her almost completely lost to common sense which is why he has left me to guide her."

"But why? Why not appoint someone he thinks a better leader."

"The same reason his father did not merely relinquish the title of king to him," he said, lowering his voice even more.

She tried to think of why that was, but couldn't and shrugged at him.

"He wants it back. The king did not want to give up his control over this land so he gave himself a more powerful title, Archibald did not want some clever castellan staging a coup in his absence. The king thinks her too simple to want to control the crown and even if she did want to, as a woman, she couldn't."

"The king belittles her even in his seemingly kind gestures."

Matthew nodded, "He does, but you should take the time to relish the fact that for the time being you need not worry yourself about her being hurt at the hands of the king."

When she gave him a surprised look he elaborated, "Puck mentioned it bothered you, as it does everyone who gets to know her."

"I suppose you're right."

"The only fear I have for her is…" he paused and then shook his head, "best not to speak of it. I am not a superstitious man, but I would not like to tempt ill omens by telling them to the wind."

Alarmed Santana sat up, "What worries you?"

He looked back at his papers as he said, "Would it suffice to say the fact that our queen has lost two sisters to child birth worries me?"

And just like that the joy of the morning, of waking free of the king's terror, was crushed.

* * *

A/N: Video games and laziness held this chapter back . I'm already a good way into the next chapter so it shouldn't take so long.


	18. Chapter 18

Looking back Santana realized that her situation was quite odd.

Not the portion about being in an illicit affair with the queen regent of the Abrams Kingdom when she was only a slave, but the disproportionate danger in their lives.

As a slave she had always accepted that death was inevitable and would one day come, probably rather suddenly, at the hands of some cruel owner. She had acknowledged this fact at a young age and though death scared her, and she did try to avoid situations that may cause it, she accepted it with a silent resentment. Instead she merely worked hard to not be beaten in her every waking moment. Before coming to the castle her only friend had been Sam who was her owner's son and not someone she had to be concerned for. His life meant something to everyone at the vineyard, there was no reason to worry for him.

So when she had first yielded to her feelings for Brittany she had concluded their relationship would most likely end as hers and Sam's had, maybe even in death. And later she'd had to swallow the fact that being with Brittany meant watching the king treat her like something less than human. However, when the war started it was the first time she'd had to come to terms with the fact that she may outlive Brittany. It was a terrifying thought, one she had opted to ignore, because with all that Azimio was he was also an excellent fighter and she believed him capable of standing at the gate and cutting down every attacker on his own.

But then Matthew had reminded her of the fate Brittany's sisters had met and suddenly she realized that the child growing inside her could merely be a countdown to her last day. She had to accept that as short as her life could end up being Brittany's death could be far more assured than hers.

It wasn't something she was used to, looking at another, seeing their mortality and actually caring.

And unlike the impending war it wasn't something she could just ignore, because as the days grew colder the evidence of Brittany's pregnancy became even more apparent. During the days when she and Santana listened to endless complaints wrapped in the best furs the kingdom could offer from its limited stores it was slightly easier, but at night, when the queen was in her gown and Santana was pulled close to her, she could feel the evidence of her limited time.

The upcoming birth aside all else was going quite well. Archibald had not managed to even make it to the North in the time he boasted it would take him to go, kill their enemies, acquire the furs and move on. So it was quite a relief when Matthew brought news that the king sovereign was more than happy to send over a shipment of furs as they apparently had them in surplus. It did come with a worrying inquiry as to the king's whereabouts, but Brittany decided to save an answer for when the shipment arrived.

And to no one's surprise it did. Ironically, at the same time they received word from the king that he was being delayed in his travels north by roadblocks.

When the queen had been read her husband's letter she had merely sighed and asked to be taken to the harbor. They arrived to find a large ship already being unloaded, full, it seemed, to bursting with a variety of furs from animals Santana couldn't even fathom.

The captain had personally brought Brittany a large, white coat that made the one she wore at the time look like the mangy coat of a stray dog. It had been sent to her from the king sovereign and there was even a small blanket made from the same animal to wrap his grandchild in when that time came. She had thanked him kindly, allowing Santana to handle the soft, white blanket that warmed her hands just by holding it.

The queen thanked the captain and sent him off with the tentative excuse that Archibald was away tending to unrest in the North. Though misleading, her words were readily accepted and with that they returned to their daily duties, Santana following Brittany in her snowy coat and wishing she too had something to keep her warmer than the wolf fur that covered her. She stood at the queen's side feeling the cold creeping into the very walls, seeming to freeze the room from all sides, despite the fires that were kept in the council and the court. It was a slight comfort to see that the councilmen were as miserable as she was since the furs had yet to see a tailor to be made into something wearable.

There was something satisfying about watching Brittany sit in complete comfort while the old men sat chattering as they rambled on.

As they moved to see to the lords and ladies that awaited consideration, Santana's worst fears were realized when she watched the queen sway before her. Fear held her in place, as if to move would somehow worsen the condition, so Matthew was the first at the queen's side.

He knelt before her as she clutched her stomach, her face showing pain, "Are you alright?"

Santana wanted to yell at him, it was quite obvious that she wasn't, that he should call for Beiste since the queen could be in serious trouble, but she couldn't. She couldn't move or breathe, because her mind was already screaming that this was it, that this was the end. The child had somehow broken something within Brittany and now she would have to say goodbye to the best person in her life.

When Matthew turned to her it took three attempts for what he said to even register as a voice, numbly she turned her head to him, "What?"

"Help me get her to her room!" he shouted, exasperated with her hesitance.

Panic spurred her forward as she rushed to assist him in lifting Brittany to her feet even though the blonde swore she could walk. Matthew sent the nearest guard for Beiste while Santana walked with the single minded purpose of not letting her feelings overwhelm her. They made it to the royal bed chambers, and never had she loathed the distance from the door to the bed so much. After placing the queen on the bed Matthew attempted to question her about her pains, but Beiste was with them before she could give an answer.

Santana stood aside, barely keeping back tears as Matthew escorted her out so the healer could work. She wanted to protest; the room was more than big enough for them to go to some far off corner and never encroach on the large woman's space, but she didn't have the strength. Instead she allowed herself to be lead out into the large hallway where Matthew stood next to her looking quite upset himself.

"I have to inform the nobles that the queen is in no condition to meet with them," he muttered, but it seemed to be more to himself than to her. "I should have known she couldn't keep up this pace, this is my fault."

Santana could only stare, because she didn't care who was to blame, she only wanted Brittany to be alright and until that was so she didn't want to think about who should carry the blame for what.

He turned to her with a haggard expression, "Watch over her, I will arrange for her meal to be brought here. Tell Beiste to report to me when this is done, I will be in the royal's study."

She nodded, unable to use her voice and watched him walk away, terrified she sat by the door thinking of what she would do should this be serious. Her thoughts consumed her, making the wait painfully long and the noise of the door opening sound like a cannon blast in her ears.

Startled, she stood suddenly and almost fell having only just realized her leg had lost feeling.

Beiste stood at the door and caught her easily with a chuckle, "Can't have the lady in waiting fallin' over, too."

"Is she alright?" was all Santana could think to reply.

"Far as I can find, but I think all th' royal work may have worn her out. Be sure she rests."

With a relieved sigh Santana leaned against the wall, almost dizzy in her joy, before relaying Matthew's message. When the healer left as well she entered the royal bed chamber with caution, as if a loud noise or sudden movement may somehow cause disaster.

Brittany was sitting on the edge of her bed, still wrapped in her white furs, watching Santana intently. When the brunette reached her side she stood still, not knowing what to say and feeling an acute sense of shame that she hadn't reacted better to the situation.

"Take off your coat," the queen said, her face betraying neither happiness nor anger.

The oddness of the request confused Santana, but she did it immediately, some irrational part of her mind wondering if she was to receive a lashing for her incompetence.

Instead she found herself yanked from her standing position and enveloped in the almost impossible warmth of the coat. It immediately reminded her of the night on the roof with Tina, though even that didn't compare as it smelled of fine oils and was lined with an unusual leather that was almost as soft as the fur was.

Brittany laughed and nuzzled the delicate spot behind her ear, "This is much better, right?"

Struggling, Santana attempted to stand, "You need to rest, now," she protested, even more so now that she could feel the swell of Brittany's stomach on her back reminding her of what had almost happened and why.

"I'm fine Santana," she said calmly while holding the smaller woman closer.

"But you might not be! Having pains so early is surely not a good omen!" she pleaded, still trying to free herself.

A light laugh escaped the blonde, "Maybe not, but I didn't feel any pain," when Santana turned to look at her questioningly she shrugged, "I didn't want to meet with wealthy men all trying to gain my favor so they may be the first to receive a portion of our shipment."

Those words gave Santana the strength to leap out of her queen's arms and round on her, fury on her face, "You were acting?!"

"Not entirely, my _feet_ did hurt," she said shyly upon seeing Santana's reaction.

"You-" she stopped, trying to reign in her temper, but it was too far gone, "I thought you were dying!"

The queen looked incredulous, "That's going a bit far, don't you think? I hardly put on that good a show."

"Brittany, don't you understand? This could kill you, it _has_ killed your sisters!" she shouted, her fears coming to the surface, making her long held tears spring to her eyes and fall freely.

Seeing her anguish, Brittany stood, obviously regretting her actions, "I didn't mean to upset you," she said softly, reaching out for Santana who stood stiffly out of her reach.

"You insist on keeping that thing within you even if it means your death. I don't understand," she cried not wanting her lover to hold her and make her bury her feelings, "Do you already love it so much you would leave me?"

A sad smile reached her lips as she took a step forward and finally returned Santana to her embrace, "Don't be so sure childbirth will cause my death, I happen to think I'm stronger than that."

She hugged Brittany back, hating the way the bulge of her belly kept them slightly apart, "And what if you're not?" she choked on her words, not wanting to hear them.

Santana couldn't see her face, but she knew the queen was smiling, "I'm your knight, do not think I would abandon you so easily, even in death."

What that meant she had no idea, but she needed to take it at face value if she were ever going to manage to stop crying. Brittany rubbed her back soothingly as she was able to gain control of herself, her strangled cries reduced to hiccuping sobs.

After a while Santana was finally able to wipe her face dry, feeling embarrassed that she had soaked the queen's dress with her tears, "Warn me the next time you want to play hurt."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it would upset you so much."

"How could it not?" she sniffled.

Brittany kissed the top of her head before leading them back to sit on the bed, "I try my hardest not to hurt you by being absent minded yet here I've done it again."

Holding her tighter, Santana hid her face, "I'm not hurt, just worried."

"Now who's acting?"

Refusing to answer, she merely continued to hold her and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of Brittany breathing. Because at the moment it was a sound she needed to hear more than anything else in the world.

* * *

Matthew, true to his word, had servants arrive almost immediately with the promised meal well ahead of the usual time, but Brittany had no complaints as she was clearly quite hungry.

Santana watched her eat, thinking of nothing more than her desire to protect her queen from her unborn child, when the blonde insisted they share the food. Having not had anything more than crow, and what she suspected was rat meat, since she had visited Lord Hummel, she found herself tempted. Seeing her interest Brittany shared her bread and meat, feeding it to the smaller woman even though she tried to protest; however, under her queen's insistence Santana was no match.

So for the first time in her life Santana shared a meal with someone she loved, and afterwards she was able to share kisses with her feeling as close to carefree as she could manage given all that was happening.

The queen was allowed to end her evening in her room to sleep away any lingering fatigue, something that worried Santana since, as the night approached, they did anything, but rest.

Her worries, as it turned out, were unfounded. Not knowing the queen's pains had been a ploy Matthew had dedicated his time to changing Brittany's daily schedule, allowing her to sleep later in the day and break at midday to rest and eat. A break she would take in the privacy of her room with Santana there, though the queen was never allowed to do more than sleep or eat since her lover, still worried for her health, would not let her instigate anything more racy than feeding her a midday snack.

However, this was not the case for the shorter breaks she was allowed during the day, the queen would sit alone with her in the library and show her books full of pictures of the animals their new stockpile of furs came from. It was something Santana found interesting, but highly difficult to focus on since Brittany used the cover of their copious clothing to allow her hands to do as they pleased.

The moon went through its phases time and again at a painfully slow pace, but at the same time far too quickly. Soon all the lords, ladies, and councilmen walked around wearing the fine furs that had been sent. The older and less durable garments were given to the castle servants, though Brittany made sure Santana was given the finest coat she could without drawing attention. The lining and make of it was nowhere near as nice as the queen's, but it kept her warm to the point that she would occasionally unbutton it to cool off. Something that she only did for a short time, because it wasn't until she woke one morning to find a solid blanket of ice over the river that she realized that only now was she seeing the full effect of winter at Castle Abrams.

Upon entering the dining hall, she found Puck sitting across from Matthew talking animatedly; eager to be in on the merriment she took a seat next to the lively armorer, "What has you so riled?" she asked before taking a spoonful of the bitter stew. A meal she had always been able to stomach until Brittany had begun to regularly feed her real foods, now she was all that much more aware of how bad it actually was.

"We got some furs," Puck laughed.

Santana frowned before plucking at her own, "I've been aware of that for some time."

He shook his head, "No, the king came through, he sent us furs."

It upset her to hear that the North had fallen to his attack and even more that he had succeeded in his intended goal, "I don't see how that is amusing," she griped.

Matthew sighed, "I suppose he finds it amusing because not only did the king send them a moon's turn after most of us would have perished from the cold, but he sent very few and what arrived is badly burned. Damaged in the raid, he writes."

Looking down at her food, she imagined facing the cold in nothing but the simple clothing used in the warmer seasons. As it was with the coats and the fires things were miserable, but bearable; without them, "He would have killed us," she muttered.

"Hmmm," Matthew agreed, "And probably himself, this entire campaign is foolish and his attack methods are so insane they seem to be working."

"Or maybe he's a good leader," Puck shrugged.

Matthew held up a charred parchment that she assumed was from the king, "Apparently the northern castellan had gone with his men to aid those in the west, assuming that was where he would strike. Our king did not take the time to ascertain that and burned the stronghold to the ground, but seeing as how he brought no one with him who can handle fire correctly he burned most of the furs he was trying to acquire, a lot of the men who would have surrendered, and almost destroyed his own caravan."

Santana couldn't keep from smiling; _We may be rid of him yet._

"Alright, I'm off to the bath house," Puck announced as he stood.

She frowned after him, "The what?"

"The servant's bath house," Matthew clarified distractedly before he paused, "I didn't tell you about that, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

He gave her an odd look, "How long have you been still bathing in the river?"

She gave a noncommittal grunt as she hadn't bathed in the river in some time, her queen insisting that she oversee Santana's hygiene personally.

"It's a marvel you didn't catch your death. In the winter servants are allowed an indoor bathing arrangement, it is located within the castle walls, so you needn't worry about the room's temperature - it's quite comfortable."

"I'm sure."

"It also occurs to me that I never informed Sunshine either, I'm sure she's figured it out by now, but I should make sure she knows," he said, looking around as if the girl were one to be so easily spotted.

"She's still here? I thought the king would have brought her along."

Matthew seemed almost amused at the notion, "No, our king is not known to bother with female servants who cannot tend to him _and_ warm his bed."

Santana shuddered to think what poor girl he had found for the task, "Who is she attending now?"

"No one until he returns, at the moment she works the kitchens," he said, glancing over to where Tanaka stood looking brutish as he dished out gruel.

Deciding she was finished eating the tasteless food, she rose from her seat, "Will the queen be allowed to rest in today or should I wake her?"

He thought for a moment, looking over the papers that were still in his hand, "I could use more time to read through these."

Santana turned on her heels and returned to Brittany, but not with the enthusiasm she typically had.

These days it was harder than usual to ignore her condition.

During the night she would wait until her queen slept to slip from her arms and curl up against her back where it was easier to sleep without feeling the small life stirring within her. The child seemed to want to actively remind her of its presence like a taunt. Brittany found it thrilling, but Santana merely found it ominous, like a sickness lying in wait to do its real damage.

Quietly she climbed onto the bed to be near her queen, but not quietly enough, confused blue eyes looked up at her, noting that she was already dressed, and a feeling of remorse swept through Santana. She knew Brittany had expected to be woken when she was so they could share the joy of waking in each other's arms, but as of late Santana had taken to leaving in the mornings without a word. And when Brittany sat up, revealing the swell of her stomach she felt the guilt wash away, because she was reminded of why she insisted on leaving in the first place.

"Morning, mi reina," Santana said gently, offering her a soft kiss, "You don't have to rise right now, Matthew says he will go over his documents a while longer."

Brittany lay back down, a hand reaching up and slowly trailing through Santana's hair, "You already went to your morning meal?"

"Yes," she said as though it meant nothing at all.

The blonde was quiet for a moment before she looked deep into Santana's eyes, "I asked for you to share my bed to keep it warm, but I can't help but feel that things are colder between us."

Santana's jaw clenched at her bluntness, "Not at all-"

"You are still upset I want to keep this child," she said easily.

"It is your choice to make not mine."

"Maybe so, but you don't have to like it, and I think it's rather clear you don't."

"You should rest," Santana said stiffly.

"I'm awake now."

"Well, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Brittany continued to stroke her hair for a while longer before she stopped, "If that is your wish," she said sadly.

Her tone made Santana feel like an ass, but there was nothing else she could do for the situation, but avoid it.

"It is."

"Will you lay with me?" she asked, and Santana thought that only the most heartless warlord could have said no to the face she gave.

Grudgingly, she lay in her least favorite spot, allowing the now enormous lump under the queen's thick nightgown to press against her back.

"I love you," Brittany said softly as she wrapped her arms around Santana.

The brunette felt tears prick at her eyes as she said, "I love you too, mi reina."

They lay that way until Matthew finally came along to let them know the day awaited them. Santana dressed Brittany in a heavy silence, because both women knew that what was between them would not heal over night, that no matter how they loved each other some things just hurt.

* * *

The advanced state of Brittany's pregnancy meant that the breaks she took were even longer and closer together, punctuated with visits from Beiste.

Before, the breaks meant the small woman would spend the afternoon trying to convince her lover to actually rest, now they meant Santana could take a break of her own as the queen really did need sleep. With the freedom to go where she wanted Santana often stayed indoors as the air outside the castle was brusque and unforgiving. Instead of venturing out she went in search of the servant's bath, so if she were questioned about it she would not give herself away by not having the slightest idea where it was.

She looked for it for some time before deciding it was best to ask someone, and the only person she knew who wasn't busy, or was willing to shirk responsibility, was Puck. The man was usually in the armory, but realistically could have been anywhere, doing anything, with anyone. However, she was in luck, he was in the armory still as bare-chested as he had been in the summer, to her further surprise Sunshine was standing next to him in a smith's apron holding a hammer for him, the size of it making her seem smaller than she was.

Checking to see that the master smith was nowhere in sight she stepped inside raising her eyebrows at Puck who ceased his work upon seeing her.

"Hey, you haven't been in these parts for a while… y'know, on purpose."

Looking at Sunshine who had only briefly acknowledged her presence she replied, "You do know that Sunshine is a girl and is supposed to work in the kitchens…"

He shrugged, "She hated it there. Told Tanaka she was really a little boy posing as a girl n' that I could use her help, he chucked 'er at me easy enough."

"But she could get in trouble for leaving."

"She's old enough t' make up her own mind," turning to the girl he asked, "You do know you could get in trouble for this, right?" when she nodded he turned back to Santana, "See, she gets it."

"Tanaka hit too much," the girl said.

Santana almost jumped, because she had honestly begun to think of the girl as a mute. Her voice was small to match her body, but her eyes were solid and unwavering. She suspected this girl had a far better handle on what was going on than anyone thought.

"If you're sure," she said and Sunshine nodded quickly before turning her attention to the glowing hot metal Puck tossed into a vat of water, causing it to billow steam.

"So what brings you here, love?"

"I wanted to find the servant's bathing room as the river is no longer accessible."

"All the stuff I gotta do and you want a tour?"

"You could just say no."

He laughed, "How can I say no to such a pretty face?" with that he pulled off his apron and tossed it to Sunshine, "Practice with that hammer, there's scrap metal in the back," he called before he walked away, Santana in tow.

"Is it really okay to leave her there alone?"

"She has to learn t' do it sometime."

Shaking her head in resignation, she followed him at a steadier pace, once again noting his bare chest, "Do blacksmith's apprentices not get coats?"

Puck laughed, "I got one but I aint wearin' it to work in, it's hot as seven hells back there, t'aint that cold anyhow."

"The master smith seems pleased enough to have furs on when I see him."

"His title is just that, a title. Man don't know a sword from a sabre, I do all that for him. Proof enough is that he even wears furs; what real smith would wear fur around fire? Man only shows up t' cuss if somethin's wrong, sleep off a hangover, 'r pretend to work if th' captain of the guard is around."

He led her to the servant's halls and soon they were both lost in taking one step after the next, ascending higher and higher, and then taking several different stairwells deep into the depths of the castle, and soon Santana was convinced they were underground.

The room she sought was, as she thought, under the ground floor of the castle and quite small, whereas she had been expecting one giant, communal space. Instead there were individual stalls, all with crude metal contraptions on top that she was sure held water.

"Michael was the one who set it up this way," Puck said, reminiscing, "Before, you had to bring yer own water n' pour it inna bucket that sorta trickled it on you. Now we got a bunch stored a floor up and when you want some you gotta pull one of these," he said walking over and pointing to a small chain.

"Why don't we use these always?" she asked, marveling at the ingenuity.

"It's under the kitchens, s'why the water's warm, so they're supposed to keep it full but it's a real problem to keep enough water to wash every servant. It also means there's only one time a day to do it so be sure n' bathe in the mornin' cause they ain't got the time to fill it again for the evening."

"I'm surprised Michael would have taken so much time to keep the castle running so well."

He shrugged, "He did it for Tina, he always told me that if th' only thing he could do for her was make her life a little easier, he would."

Understanding she thought fondly of her one-time friends, hoping, once again, that wherever they were, they were together and happy.

"I miss them."

"I don't, glad they're gone," when she gave him a startled look he waved it away, "Glad _for_ them; they didn't belong here. S'always worse for servants who knew freedom first."

"I can agree with that," she said heavily.

Puck observed her for a moment before sighing, "You're lookin' done in, wanna do somethin' fun?"

She gave him a sideways glance, "Like what?"

"Like go inta town, I know a few places that don't mind castle slaves hangin' around."

"We aren't allowed to go into town."

"Weren't allowed to go to the Hummel's caravan neither."

"But Azimio is lurking by the gates these days and I'd rather avoid anything that would put me at odds with him."

He sighed resignedly, "Alright, if you change yer mind you know where t' find me."

They ascended the stairs once more, with Puck showing her the fastest way to the royal's hallway, and after she opened the final door that would take her back she stopped.

She smiled at him, wondering how the castle could have produced a man who wasn't bitter and cold towards everyone he met. For all his imperfections he was truly a good person and, in some ways, he reminded her of Sam, the boy who had been her only friend in the world for a long time.

"Thank you, for always having time for me," the words left her mouth and suddenly she regretted never saying them to Sam.

Puck looked stunned by her words before he gave a nervous laugh, "Don't go gettin' so serious."

"I thought you should know I'm grateful," she said simply.

"Well, if you were anyone else I'd want a proper thank you, but since I know yer heart's elsewhere I'll just accept it," he replied, flashing a roguish smile, she returned it but when his faded with worry, hers did as well.

"What is it?"

He looked off to the side and scuffed his feet on the floor like a scolded boy, "The woman you love, it's the queen, isn't it?"

She looked at him in total disbelief, thoroughly bothered that two people had been able to figure that out, "N-no."

Puck smiled sadly, "I thought so. Actually, I didn't, Sunshine did." That stunned her even more, but she couldn't even voice it, "She didn't say you two were together like that, she just said you always look at the queen like you adore her. And well, when I thought about it she was right, but you don't really adore anything. Then I thought about how you stayed here for a woman you loved that no one's ever seen you with, ever. Which, I mean I aint sayin' it's impossible, but this place don't hold secrets like that well and I figure someone would have seen you with a girl sometime. The queen though, she's someone you're around all th' time and it's clear as day she cares for you a lot. Anyway, after I thought about what she said it was kinda obvious."

Santana swallowed thickly, "You… haven't told anyone, have you?" she asked quietly, fear riddling her voice.

He shook his head quickly, "No, and I never would, you know me better n' that. I just wanted to say… be careful," his voice took on a rather desperate quality and it was the most emotional she could ever recall seeing him. "If the king finds out about it he won't just give you lashes and send you on your merry way, love."

"I know."

With a small chuckle he rubbed his head, "And you are willin' to risk that for her?"

"And more," Santana replied instantly.

"Then I hope you don't ever get found out, and if I ever hear someone soundin' like they suspect somethin' I'll be sure they got no doubts about how much you like men."

She didn't relish the idea of her exploits with Puck, or any made up lover he would come up with, roaming around the castle, however, the thought of being found out appealed less.

"It seems like I owe you thanks again."

She thought he might brush it off with some quip or another, but he became quite serious, "You don't owe me anythin', just _please_ be careful. I already lost too many good friends in my life and they ain't as easy to come by like I make it look."

"I'll be careful," she said before turning again to leave when he called her once more.

"And Santana," he waited for her to face him before he spoke in hushed tones, "love her with everythin' you got cause you may not always have the chance, n' if that happens and you didn't do n' say everything you coulda, you'll regret it badly." He said it with the air of someone who knew that pain quite well.

She gave him a nod before he disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Santana finally began her short trip down to the queen's chambers, thinking how she needed more female acquaintances so her lover could not be so easily discerned, before she reached the room entering with a soft knock. The blonde was sleeping peacefully and Santana didn't want to wake her, but she did. And, instead of attempting to shake her awake, planted gentle kisses on her brow until her eyes opened and Santana found her lips captured by Brittany's.

When they broke apart she seemed mostly pleased but a little perplexed, Santana answered the look with another sound kiss.

"It's time to go," she said affectionately into Brittany's ear before pressing her lips there.

"Alright."

The queen rose, obviously not wanting to question what had her in such a pleasant and amorous mood.

She watched Brittany struggle to stand and went to help her; she couldn't pretend to love the child inside her any better, but she could heed Puck's advice. She could cherish her, she could show Brittany much she meant to her within the time they were allowed, because Santana couldn't shake the feeling that they wouldn't be together much longer.

Instead of dwelling on that she got Brittany's coat and wrapped her in it snuggly before hugging her tightly, ignoring the forced distance between them. It didn't matter, only Brittany did and she would do her best to remember that from now on.

Taking her hand, she lead Brittany out into the hall, "Are you ready to face a long line of whining nobles?"

Brittany gave her an loving look and pulled her close, "With you by my side I can face anything."

* * *

A/N: More to come and thank you for all the support thus far!

As always reviews are most welcome :)


	19. Chapter 19

Santana found that she had been greatly mistaken in believing she had seen the height of winter in the Abrams Kingdom. Cold took on a whole new meaning when she was deep within the castle and still able to hear the howl of the wind from the sea and when the walls were practically ice to the touch.

Outside the castle walls was a whole new lesson in pain as the wind would hit her face like a whip and freeze her to the bone despite all the clothing she wore. Luckily her duties with Brittany never forced her outdoors, but on the occasions where she would travel through the servants' halls, which were full of windows and never heated, the brutality of the weather was impressed quite firmly.

Brittany, all things considered, was thriving. She had managed to request additional food reserves from the king sovereign using the same excuse she had for the furs, gaining the castle a bountiful surplus of food. A surplus that she used to barter favors from nearby castellans, keeping the colonies closest in her debt and happy. She had even begun tentative negotiations with the South after finding their winter rations were lacking, trading food for weapons; they weren't needed, but the queen felt that as long as they were willing to trade it meant that attack was less likely and would go far to earn their trust back without seeming to go behind her husband's back and offer terms he hadn't agreed to.

Matthew had been absolutely stunned by the proposition and readily agreed it was the best option. Santana knew that he was really more surprised that the queen had thought of it when he had not. But by now she had learned to accept that Brittany showing she had a thought in her head would never fail to earn the maximum amount of amazement; and that at the end of the day, no matter that Brittany was the one to present the idea to the council, Matthew would be given credit.

However, Brittany seemed to prefer it that way and that was the only thing that kept Santana from losing her temper about it.

Besides, she still had so much to deal with regarding the queen's upcoming delivery, which, according to Beiste, would be sometime soon. Santana had worked hard to keep the distaste off her face when Brittany spoke of her child. She had tried hard to stop thinking of its arrival as the end of their time together, but when Brittany would wake in the night feeling as though the time had come that shield of denial would shatter. Every time she would dash through the halls at night to find Beiste, so very sure that by the time she returned the child would already be born and Brittany would be gone, because in her mind she could not picture both of them alive at the same time.

It was a particularly cold and windy day when Santana sat at the queen's side in the warm study by a raging fire. She was once again struggling to only see the woman she loved and not the growth that could be seen protruding from her furs. Silently she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing it was further back to keep the sight from her. But Brittany enjoyed having her nearby too much, the queen's arm was resting on the side of her chair as close to Santana as she dared in Matthew's presence. In reciprocation, Santana would lean discretely against her to allow for the largest amount of contact they could maintain.

Matthew was currently reading off a long list of weapons a few castellans from the South had recently sent ending with a grudging word of thanks for the food. Having overestimated their food supplies the tentative relationship was based on life threatening need, though progress was clearly being made as this was the first gratitude they had been extended since the trading began. Thinking back on Brittany's initial idea even Santana had thought it would fail, even though the queen accounted for the slow speeds of caravans and had the goods delivered by sea which also prevented seizure since the southern castellans controlled the nearest port along the coast. The plan was surprisingly smart, and now it was surprisingly successful.

"It is good to hear them gracious, now maybe we won't have to fear them scaling our walls in the night," Brittany said with a soft sigh.

Matthew looked dubiously at the note, "This could also be a ploy, they could be trying to seem innocuous in the hopes we will relax our defenses."

"I doubt that as they know we are at war on several fronts, but I will keep that in mind."

He nodded and shifted to another page in his ever-present stack of parchments, "The king sends word that he is delayed in the North. The winter is far harsher than anyone expected and many of his men are wounded so they will remain at Lord Nelson's castle, or what remains of it, until the season is warmer. Luckily the West is facing the same problem at our stronghold so it seems, for now, the fighting is on hold."

Santana tried to keep her face from falling in disappointment but it didn't quite work, the queen seemed only mildly interested in the news.

"Well, that will give us time to possibly get a few of the southern castellans firmly back on our side," she said airily.

"There is also a post script," Matthew continued slowly, when only silence came he went on, "The king believes that he will most likely miss your birthing and sends his regrets and his love." Santana disguised a snort as a cough and Brittany merely looked at her sideways, her eyes sparkling in amusement. "He also requests that you name his son after him: Archibald Gerdrick Abrams the second."

Both Brittany and Santana looked at him unblinkingly, there was a long silence before the queen cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.

"As much as I would love to heed my king's wishes I can only do so if I know them. A terrible shame I dropped that letter in the fire," Brittany said kindly.

Matthew seemed confused, "My lady, it's right here…"

"It can't be, I accidentally burned it, I'm sure Artie will understand how that can happen."

"I don't-"

"Matthew, give me the letter," she said, holding out her hand, and, still uncomprehending, he did just that.

The queen balled up the paper and threw it into the nearby fire with incredible accuracy.

Mathew watched the paper sail through the air and burn swiftly in the flames, "Right."

"Quite clumsy of me, really."

Fighting hard to keep from laughing, Santana asked quietly, "What will you name him, or her?"

"I don't know, but not Archibald Gerdrick Abrams the second."

Matthew clearly disapproved of their having a conversation when Santana was not supposed to be present at all, but he said nothing of it.

"There are worse names," Matthew grumbled.

"Name _one_," Brittany said with interest.

He thought for a moment, cleared his throat and pulled up the next parchment for her consideration. Santana could only smile.

"Ahem, well the last point we need to discuss is the war overseas."

Brittany rubbed her head, "Please tell me it has reached a standstill as well."

"No such luck, the king sovereign has made great progress, but has suffered incredible losses. We may be asked to send more soldiers that we cannot afford to spare and if he is told why we are so lacking he will know the king has failed in his negotiations."

She thought for a second before asking, "How is the queen sovereign?"

Matthew seemed thrown by the question and even looked confusedly at his paper as if the answer was written there, "Fine, I believe she made a full recovery."

"That's good," Brittany said, genuinely relieved.

"Indeed, and what of the troops?"

After shifting in her seat again she sighed, "I suppose we will have to deal with that when it comes. Right now we are besieged on all sides with only a tentative truce with some of the castellans to the South as our possible future allies. We can't ask for help and even if we could we could hardly send soldiers and expect them to not tell the king sovereign all that is happening here."

"I know, I was hoping you would see a way out of this that I did not," Matthew said solemnly.

She chuckled, "With all the challenges we have to face let's not go worrying ourselves over ones that don't exist yet."

He looked at her for a long moment before he laughed as well, "You do have quite a valid point. Your wisdom in the matter is much appreciated."

Santana wanted to jump in and tell him that Brittany was so much wiser than everyone else in the castle combined, but she had already spoken up once, which was one more time than she was supposed to, so she kept the comment to herself for the time being.

* * *

Council proceeded as expected, with the councilmen still standing in awe that the queen hadn't killed them with brazen, foolish choices.

They questioned relations with the South, which were going well, they questioned the finances, which, thanks to her careful negotiations, were more than sufficient. The individual relations with their own castellans were better than they had been even under the king sovereign and the castle was better supplied for the winter than any of them could recall being.

Yet a few of them felt the need to question her every action, occasionally directing those questions to Matthew as if there was no way she could understand them.

Santana, having learned to temper her dislike of their behavior, had her attention immediately drawn when Brittany began to fidget in her chair and not locked in on whoever sat before them insulting her intelligence.

When she looked to the queen it was with questioning eyes, though it was not uncommon for her to shift position it was odd for her to look so pained. She wanted to ask if she was feeling alright, but there was a councilman droning on about the debatable wisdom in continuing to supply the South as this could be a chance to starve them out and weaken their forces for the inevitable war.

After a moment she went back to listening, a frown deep on her features and some time later Santana allowed her mind to return to what she would do with her free time. Then Brittany shifted again, but this time with a light groan and, unwilling to ignore it a second time she whispered, "Are you alright."

"No," filtered back to her quietly through gritted teeth.

Though the old man in one of the back rows was still talking Brittany cut across him, "My lord, I understand your concern, however, we should not pass up a chance to regain an ally, especially if all it takes is civility and some of our excess food. I must ask that we revisit this point later since I am afraid I'm not feeling my best at the moment."

The man merely gapped at her, "Majesty, this is most unusual," he sputtered as, even while he spoke, Brittany was standing to leave.

"I would argue that a human growing inside another is honestly a little unusual so allowances must be made," she said as Santana rushed to help her.

The councilmen muttered amongst themselves while watching her leave after having only heard a fraction of their grievances, questions, and complaints. Santana could only feel the usual, ever present thud of her heart that came when she feared the baby was on its way. She helped the queen struggle with every step out of the massive room and once they were in the hallway she turned, hoping to see that Brittany had merely staged the performance to get out earlier.

But her face clearly showed otherwise.

"Should I send for Beiste?" Matthew asked as he finally came into the hall behind them.

"Yes," Brittany panted, and it scared Santana more than anything else ever had, because this was the first time the blonde had actually requested her healer.

And just like that everything happened all at once, Santana watched in sudden horror as it seemed with every passing moment that this was the time she had dreaded. Beiste arrived and saw her alone in her room before coming back out, not to give them good news, but instead to request Matthew send for more healers to assist.

Santana looked into the bedroom to see Brittany laying on the bed some distance away and when Beiste closed the door to return to her, she did anything but think of how that may have been the last time that she would see her.

Like Sam, Brittany would become something distant, something untouchable, but in this regard the abandonment would be far more permanent.

Needing reassurance, and feeling like a child for wanting it, Santana turned to Matthew who stood nearby looking at the door with a solemn grimace.

"Will she be able to do this?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, Beiste is the best at what she does, she even delivered the king, and I hear he was unwilling to leave the comfort of his mother's womb. Maybe the difference for the queen from her sisters will be the quality of care given."

That did nothing to reassure her, "What should I do?"

"Wait here," he said before indicating she take a seat by the door, "I hear this can be quite a long process. I have things to attend to," he said before turning to leave quite suddenly.

Santana gave the door a worried glance before sitting by it and not think about what was happening behind it. That was hopeless, however, and in the long stretching, never-ending time that passed she became more and more frightened.

Her nerves frayed, it was no wonder she scrambled to her feet like a guilty thief when the door opened. It was Beiste, and the large woman did not look like she had good news.

"The queen wants t' see you," she said before opening the door a little wider.

Santana felt terror grip her limbs as she pictured some sort of gruesome scene, but as the healer's large hand ushered he in she saw little had changed.

Brittany still lay in her bed, the child still inside her, Santana was a little disappointed because she had hoped for the whole thing to already be over. Cautiously she approached the bed to find it surrounded by healers who seemed to be busy preparing for the inevitable.

The blonde watched her with steady eyes, and when she made it to her side, reached for her hand. Santana gave it, though her heart sank at the feeble and trembling manner in which she did.

"You're worried again," Brittany said quietly, a weak smile coming over her face.

"Of course I am," Santana snorted.

"Don't be."

"I…" her eyes trailed down Brittany's body, taking in her labored breathing under the weight of the infant that weighted on her, "I can't help it," she said sadly, her chest twisting at the thought of having to see the death of the woman she loved so much.

Brittany considered her words for a moment and then turned to Beiste, "Leave us for a moment."

The large woman gave her a stunned look, "But m'lady-"

"You said it would be some time before I actually have to give birth, didn't you?"

"I did, but-"

"Then it won't be a problem for you to step out for a moment, I'll have Santana come get you should I feel the child stir," she said kindly.

Beiste thought for a moment, clearly wanting to argue, but then gave a nod and ushered the others out.

With her gone Brittany returned her attention to Santana, "I want you here by my side, but if you can't, if it's too much then go, I'll understand."

"I'll stay with you," she said suddenly, and just as quickly she wished she hadn't, because running away seemed like such a novel idea.

Brittany smiled a slow smile, "That's what you feel you need to say, but I know you better than that."

Santana felt shame creep in and settle deep in her bones, "I want to go, I want to run, but you're always so strong for both of us and it's time I do my share, no matter how I feel."

"No," she said softly, bringing Santana's hand to her cheek, "You don't need to be strong in return, I'm your knight, and it's my duty to take care of you."

Santana wanted to be a pillar, to be someone who wouldn't crack no matter what, but she realized as she began her all too familiar crying act that she had a long way to go.

"It's not your duty, it's mine," she sobbed, wiping away the tears as fast as she could as if there was some hope of hiding them, "You aren't my knight, you're my queen, mi reina."

Her face brightened a little more, "Is that what it means?"

Still wiping her face, Santana nodded, "You're the queen of my heart, of my everything, and watching you hurt, hurts me," she cried, "You can't protect me unless you protect yourself."

While she fought with her tears Brittany continued to observe her, "Then I will just do both," she said easily.

Santana gave a shaky laugh, "If only it was that easy."

"It is," she said honestly, and Santana felt like such a coward next to the bravery and strength of the woman at her side.

"How can you just say that with no worry?" she sobbed, having not yet reigned in her emotions.

"Who said I wasn't worried?" Brittany laughed, "Santana, I'm very afraid, and I have been since I found I was going to have this child, but looking at you makes me brave."

And somehow that made her feel even more cowardly, "I'll stay here," because even if she were completely craven she could pretend to be otherwise for the woman who had sacrificed so much to make her happy.

Beiste and the other healers were allowed to rejoin them and Santana felt out of place and in the way as she sat at the queen's side and held her hand. And for every pain that hit her Santana was there to hold fast, and an inkling of pride swelled in her chest that she was here despite how she would have given almost anything to be anywhere else.

She sat patiently as the healers scrambled and shuffled, she hushed the queen and brushed her hair back when she was in pain. Time warped and stretched in that room with pain rolling in like the tide, the waves getting higher and higher until Santana began to worry, once again, that Brittany wouldn't be strong enough. It was pushing the small woman to the brink and she wasn't even the one in pain. Brittany seemed to get weaker as time rolled on and according to the healers there was much more to get through.

Matthew stepped in momentarily, but the queen was in a state of undress due to the delivery, making him keep his visit short.

It went well enough for a while, and then Brittany felt a pain that made her scream and Santana felt a wave of terror that wasn't explainable from the shock of the sudden and loud noise. The sound shook something in her mind loose and suddenly her memories came crashing back, memories of the last time someone she loved had cried out in pain.

Santana hadn't seen her parents so vividly in her mind outside of nightmares, and even then she woke before too long. These images stayed and when Brittany screamed again she panicked. As much as she wanted to stay and face everything, as much as she wanted to be strong for Brittany in the moment she was most needed, she found she couldn't.

She ran.

She ran from the room and out of the castle, her legs pumping as hard as they could, the act doing nothing but reminding her more of that night. Her father had protected her, he told her to run and she had, though she realized that even if he hadn't she still probably would have left them there.

Because she was coming to realize that she was the worst sort of coward.

That she had run that night and had never stopped, even with how much she wanted to now, she couldn't. She had run from or ignored every problem she had faced in her life and now she was seeing for the first time how hopeless she was.

Only the fierce bite of ice cold wind whipping in from the sea snapped her out of her frenzy. And when she realized she had reached the cliffs she sobbed, hot tears turning to ice on her face, because she wanted to go back so badly. She needed to, but there wasn't a single part of her that could muster up the courage to return and watch Brittany be in pain and possibly die. She argued furiously with herself in her own mind as she curled up against a tree with her back to the wind; she argued that Brittany was strong enough to live, that Beiste was the best at what she did and would solve any problems that would arise, that if these were in fact her last moments she should be there so her queen could pass on with a loving face to see her off.

But she just sat there, thinking those thoughts and hating herself so very much.

When she had arrived it was clearly past sundown so she had no idea how long she sat on the frozen ground, but at some point snow began to fall and cover her under an icy blanket. The cold ate through her coat easily leaving her as stiff as the tree she was leaned against, she accepted it because she felt if she were to abandon Brittany as she had it was the least she deserved. It occurred to her as her eyes tried to close that maybe it would be best if the snow buried her and she were never found, it, she felt, would be an end that served her best.

Fate had other plans however, because at some point in the night someone kicked her harshly in the back. Well, it may not have been that harsh, her whole body felt like a frozen ball of pain so it may have been a gentle nudge since any contact hurt.

She turned and saw Puck glaring down at her.

Then she remembered why she was sleeping on frozen earth under a sheet of snow.

Then the shame returned.

Santana opened her mouth to ask what he wanted, but she found she couldn't feel her face, and besides that there really was nothing to say.

Puck seemed to know that too since he lifted her up, with great difficulty, and practically carried her back to the castle.

She expected him to take her back to the queen, or to take her to a healer since her legs barely worked, instead, to her surprise, he took her to the small makeshift tavern in the back of the kitchens.

Grateful no one was around, she sat in the warm room feeling her skin prickle from the temperature change.

"Yer an idiot," Puck grumbled as he filled a mug full of the concoction that passed as drink in this place.

"I'no," she mumbled back, her jaw finally regaining enough mobility to chatter slightly.

He turned and brought the mug over, sliding it across the table to her frozen hands that could barely reach for it, "Do you? Do you got any idea how mucha one you are?"

Without answering she lifted the mug to her lips, dribbling a little as she drank through numb lips.

"You coulda died!" he snapped and then paused to take a deep breath, "Matthew's got damn near the whole castle searchin' for ya, 'course none of them think to look in th' last place a sane person would be."

"I'm s-sorry," she said, her teeth still clicking.

Though she was aware of how the bitter sweet drink made her insides feel like someone had lit a fire to heat her belly and chest.

"Why'd you do it?"

"B-because I can't watch her die," her heart felt like it stopped as she said the words.

Puck sighed and leaned against the table she was seated on, "So ta fix that you ran off into the arms a' death?"

"D-deserved it. I'm spineless."

He frowned, "You think leavin' makes you a coward that deserves death?" when she nodded he chuckled, "Childbirth is a hard thing to watch, I bet I woulda run too."

"I ran from my parents w-when they n-needed me," she said before taking several deep gulps of the beverage that was starting to taste a little better as it allowed more function in her limbs.

With a sigh, Puck straightened to step in front of her, "I don't know about your past and I ain't askin', alls I can say is you're the bravest woman I know. You gave up a chance to be free t' be with the person you love, there ain't many that would do that. Actually, besides you n' Michael I don't know any."

"What would you know? You don't even want to be free," she snapped, resenting him making her feel slightly better when she knew she should be wallowing in her disgrace.

He ignored her rudeness and answered her, "I never said I didn't want freedom at all, I want it, it's just the kind I want don't exist for men like me. But if I knew for a fact that goin' with Michael meant I'd get a happy life without ever worryin' about money or some man livin' as my master you can bet yer life I'da gone. I got a woman I love too, but I don't think I would give that up for her if I had th' choice."

"It may be as you said, that I was brave to choose as I did," she said downing the rest of her mug, "but I think my one streak of bravery has come and gone."

"Has it? Are ya really going to stay down here? Matthew's lookin' for you but I won't say I found you. All I'll say is remember what I told you; love her while you can cause you'll regret it later if you don't."

"But I can't," she cried, her face heating as more accused tears spilled, "I can't listen to her scream, I can't hear her pain, because it puts a fear in me that takes away all reason."

Puck shrugged as he backed to the door, "Then think about what happens if she dies tonight. How will ya feel when you look back on this? Compare th' two and I think you'll work out what ta do."

With that he left her in the room that she was suddenly realizing was broiling hot, either that or the black drink was doing its job too well. She stood and flexed her limbs in an attempt to get them back to their normal flexibility.

Santana was still stiff, sore, and completely unwilling to face her situation. Then she did as Puck asked and compared the horror of reliving her past to the possible future of having to live with herself if Brittany died alone and afraid.

It took less than a heartbeat for her to find herself racing back through the halls to the royal bedchamber.

Matthew stood outside the door pacing while worrying his thumbnail with his teeth. When he saw her obvious relief came over him and he met her halfway there.

"I have to go back to her," Santana said, trying to bypass him but he caught her arm.

"Not now, the healers are working."

"They were working before," she tried to get free of him with no success.

"Santana, while you were gone, wherever it is you went," he added pointedly, "her condition has changed."

She felt dizzy, ill and oddly calm all at once, "What happened?"

"The child has still not come and there is bleeding that makes the healers most concerned. Furthermore, I'm afraid her majesty has become far too fatigued. Beiste believes that should this go on too much longer-"

"She'll be fine," Santana snapped, pulling her arm away and heading back towards the door but Matthew caught her again.

"Actually, she may well die from this," he said bluntly, "and in such a case the queen has given me the specific order to send you away."

At this she paused and looked at him, "What?"

"She wishes for you to be freed and has even bartered for you to have a home on the outskirts of our territories in the South, so regardless of the outcome of the war you should remain unaffected."

"How… when-"

"She has been working towards this for some time, but it is something I have been instructed to enact quickly and quietly. In order to do that you need to gather your things and wait for me to-"

"No, I'm not going to pack and wait for her to die!"

Santana pulled away from him again, but this time he was unable to catch her again as she dashed into the room running to the bed, praying it wasn't too late.

Several of the healers looked as if they were about to stop her approach but one word from Beiste had them all back to their prior tasks.

There was little space on the bed except by Brittany's head where Santana crawled and felt her insides shrink at the sight of the blonde's face. Her skin was almost grey and her eyes seemed distant and dull, her breathing was strained and sweat coated her brow, however when those eyes found Santana a little of the light returned.

"There you are," she mumbled with a smile.

Santana felt herself tearing up again and again hated herself so much for not being a stronger person, with a shuddering sigh she curled up next to Brittany's head and whispered, "Don't die, I need you to live, you can't expect me to go on without you."

A weak laugh escaped her as she reached up and stroked Santana's hair, "If that is your command, I'll see that it's done."

Now a watery chuckle escaped Santana as she thought of a mere servant commanding the queen regent of the Abram's Kingdom to do anything.

"If you stay with me I'll be better," she cried softly, "I won't be so craven ever again."

She felt the queen smile against her hair as she said, "You aren't craven; you may not have known you were coming back, but I did."

It hurt so badly that even now, on death's door, Brittany was still playing the part of her knight, protecting her from everyone, including herself, "Live and let me be _your_ knight, let me protect you, mi reina."

"Need some help here," Beiste said firmly, and when Santana looked up she saw the large woman was addressing one of the other healers who appeared to have been trying to inch closer to hear better.

The hand holding Santana close tensed and she felt Brittany writhe in pain as she seemed too tired to cry out any longer. Taking the trembling hand, Santana held it tightly until the blonde stopped tensing to take a deep shuddering breath. The large woman had moved into position in case the pain signaled the arrival of the infant, but what she saw clearly upset her because after a moment she heard Beiste again, her voice was laced with worry, "We need this child born now or we lose 'em both." Santana refused to believe that would happen, because she needed to have faith in Brittany, for once she needed to believe in the woman she loved.

"We're gonna need the bed," Beiste said to her, already pointing out where she wanted the others.

"I won't be far," Santana whispered to Brittany before squeezing her hand and backing out of the way.

The sight of the queen was immediately swallowed by healers in cream colored robes as they worked to deliver the next generation of royalty.

And Santana felt pride in herself when she didn't flee at the gut wrenching screams that came from her lover, or panic at the amount of blood that seemed to be soaked in the towels that were passed from the bed. Because she believed in Brittany. She said she would live, and though deep down Santana doubted that any person could will themselves to live through mortal wounds or ailments, she did at that moment. If ever it were possible for a human to do so her queen would do so now.

Even when the peeling cry of an infant filled the room Santana didn't let the feeling of dread take over. The one that warned her of the folly in ever thinking that the queen and her child could both survive.

The baby was immediately under the care of several healers while Brittany was attended to by the rest. Santana stood waiting for word of the queen, but it was some time before anyone moved from her side. When one particularly small, stubby man came over from the bed she thought she might be about to learn something, but he brushed past her to the door where he called for Matthew.

Santana had to stand and wait an eternity for anything of relevance to happen, which started with a dozen servants entering the room to assist the healers in removing the queen from the bed while a new mattress and sheets were brought in before she was laid back down. The brunette didn't even let it bother her that the queen seemed quite still, and decided they wouldn't take so much care if she were in fact dead. Though she didn't _know_ that.

But then Beiste stepped away, as did those with her, and the queen was left alone and still as they moved to look at the still squalling infant. Santana felt her world begin to spin until the enormous woman turned and gave her a subtle head jerk in the queen's direction.

Not needing another hint, she ran to Brittany's side and fought not to burst into tears as the woman looked past dead. Then her eyes opened and sluggishly found Santana before her mouth twitched in a way that could have been a smile.

"M'still here," she muttered.

Somehow Brittany looked small and delicate laying on the bed and when she reached to touch the hanging strands of Santana's hair the brunette thought of a frail, broken bird.

"You are," Santana said softly as she took her hand, placing a soft, discrete kiss on it.

"Pardon," said the same stubby man that had bustled past her before.

Santana turned and was shocked to see that the infant was being presented to her, swaddled in the plush, white blanket its grandsire had sent, though thankfully it had finally stopped crying.

She looked at the child then to the man trying to figure out what he wanted until he became impatient and handed the bundle over. Santana almost leapt back in her urgency to _not_ take it.

The man practically glared at her, "The young prince needs to be held and my work here is done."

Prince. She'd delivered a boy. That at least was good news as this would keep Archibald from trying for another.

Reluctantly she took the baby, looking down at his red, wrinkled face and trying not to visibly show revulsion. To cover any negativity she might be tempted to display, she turned to Brittany as the small man marched away, "You have a son."

Brittany's eyes had closed, but when she spoke they opened and slowly found Santana again, "What's his name?"

The smaller woman frowned, "You are his mother, you should name him."

"I've never been good at names."

"What makes you think I'm better?" she argued.

The volume of her voice riled the child and soon small cries came from within the warm fur. Glaring, she looked down at the child and felt slightly chilled when familiar stony grey eyes looked back at her.

She had to fight not to sneer. She had to fight harder to not think of the child as an extension of his father and throw him against a wall. Instead of daydreaming about tossing him from the observatory she rocked him gently until his cries stopped.

"What will you name him?" Brittany asked again.

_Shitface_, Santana thought hotly before forcing herself to calm.

Brittany loved this baby and clearly wanted her to do the same. For the love of her life she could try to do that, she owed her that much.

With a sigh she gave the question some thought, but honestly she didn't know any male names. She knew she had always liked her father's name, unfortunately she couldn't remember it. All the other names she could recall already belonged to those in the castle or men who had owned her and treated her horribly.

Then she realized that wasn't true. There was one name she could think of that would fit.

"Samuel," she said quietly, glancing to Brittany to see what she thought.

The other woman managed a real smile, "An excellent name for a prince or a king."

Santana shrugged as if it hadn't mattered, but it did make her feel a weird sort of connection to the child in her arms. And _only_ for the sake of Brittany did she not fight it.

Beiste and Matthew approached and suddenly Santana felt like she had been caught, like somehow they had heard the quiet discussion from across the room.

"Have you decided on a name for the young prince?" Matthew asked Brittany.

"Yes, Samuel."

Matthew nodded, "Excellent, the entire castle will know the name by sunrise."

"And that ain't long from now," Beiste laughed, "But so you know, m'lady, we stopped the bleeding, but yer still weak."

"I gathered that," Brittany said, a smile still on her face.

"Yeah, well, no more council or court 'til your color's better."

"I think I'll be able to manage that."

That made Santana smile as well.

"For now it is best that Prince Samuel stay in another room so as not to disturb you while you sleep, I have a servant in mind to look after the prince, so you need not worry. That is assuming you do not wish for Santana to care for him instead? I can find a new lady in waiting for you-"

"No," Brittany said, though it was clearly in a foggy state somewhere between wake and sleep, "Santana will stay with me, and so will Samuel."

Matthew frowned, "My lady, that's a bit unusual-"

This time it was Beiste who interrupted, "She's weak 'n tired, don't fight with her, time enough for that later," she said before turning and signaling for the others to follow, "Watch her close while she sleeps, anything odd happens, fetch me immediately."

Santana nodded and Matthew gave an indignant, "Of course."

Once they were left alone he turned to her and rubbed his head looking down at the queen, "Well, if ever there was a time for her to need someone to share her bed it would be now. I'll have the prince's bassinet brought up right away."

When he left Santana was left alone in the quiet room with the resting mother and child. She looked at the small being that had very nearly killed her lover and tried to smile, she tried to let the small sense of attachment grow into something more, but all it did was make her head hurt. She didn't feel a great sense of love for the child at all. In fact, when his grey eyes opened for a moment she thought immediately of his father and she felt rather sure she never would.

Then she looked over at his mother and remembered a time when nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to see her thrown from the tallest tower in the castle.

Time changed everything for her relationship with Brittany and she could only hope it would do the same here.

* * *

A/N: This came a bit later than planned obviously XP

I'm already working on the next chapter but for those who don't know I update my tumblr with info on my progress so check my profile if you want to keep tabs on it.

Leave a comment if the mood strikes.

And as always thanks for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

There were several moments during the first few days of holding Samuel that Santana thought she might actually be able to tolerate the child.

Then he would wake her in the middle of the night with his screaming and, worse yet, wake Brittany who would struggle to sit up so Santana could bring him over to feed.

For Santana it was a horrible thing to watch, since Brittany's pallor had not improved, it looked a lot like the child was sucking the life out of her. She would become so tired just from the small action of feeding him, even with Santana there to hold most of his weight.

During the day he was hardly any better; she had to take him outside the bedroom when Matthew came to visit since Brittany was too weak to speak over her son's cries, leaving her to bounce the squalling baby in her arms wishing he would lose his voice.

But of course she didn't truly wish that, only because it would have made Brittany so sad.

When the prince was asleep she would place him in his bassinet and sit dutifully at Brittany's side. Matthew called her a guard hound, but she didn't care, she wasn't going to run from the queen again and she would learn to tolerate her son even though she did still feel a powerful wave of hatred every time he looked at the world with his father's eyes. And when she remembered he held such a high place in the heart of her lover.

Winter's bite became even more fierce as the days passed and soon incoming letters ceased as it was impossible for any man or beast to travel long distances. In fact, even short ones were a challenge.

This did mean that Matthew had less to try and talk with Brittany about, leaving Santana more time with her and her alone. Though Samuel was never far from them.

During one particularly clear, yet intensely cold morning, Matthew stood by the queen's bedside, reading off a list of nobles who claimed to be most in need of firewood to survive the winter.

The royal bed chamber was the only truly warm room in the castle as Santana had found out on the way to her morning meal and Matthew seemed to be intent on reading extraordinarily slowly in the hopes of staying longer. She didn't blame him, but at the same time she wondered if he knew that Brittany would surely let him stay if he asked.

As he droned on Santana fed Brittany her meal of porridge slowly and carefully, fully aware that all the liveliness she gained from the meal would be stolen shortly by her son.

Matthew looked briefly at the sleeping child before he walked back over to them, "I have looked into finding a wet-nurse for the prince, but he seems to be the only child that survived a winter birth. I believe that, given more time, I could send a messenger to request one be sent from one of our nearby castellans."

Brittany shrugged a little, "I will feed him."

"It's making you weak," Santana said.

Matthew seemed irritated at her interjecting herself in the conversation, but the informality of feeding the queen in her bedroom made Santana bold.

"I am already weak."

"True," Matthew added, "but that condition could be rectified much more quickly if you allowed others to care for him. Which brings me to the point that I strongly believe it is time to allow another servant to handle Prince Samuel," when Brittany looked like she was going to object he sped on. "Not at all times, but I cannot continue to watch him and tend to my castle duties during the times Santana cannot."

That was usually when she had to be bathed though now it was a far less intimate affair with several healers overseeing the venture for fear Brittany may be left in too long or that Santana wouldn't be able to lift her from the water on her own. There were more servants around to help with all tasks that required the queen to move since every step she took seemed to be leading to a collapse.

"If you insist," Brittany conceded, "but do not think I intend to pawn him off on someone else."

"Of course not. Also before our communications ended I received a letter from Lord Motta," Matthew went on waving the paper he spoke of as if to prove it was true, "In it he states that he is quite grateful for the crown's assistance and that he is tired of the hostilities. He says he is willing to pay to move any displaced families onto new lands so that the border lands may be converted into strongholds without worry, provided, of course, that the crown buy the bulk of their supplies from the displaced families to ensure their first year's harvest yields profit."

Brittany gently squeezed Santana's hand to keep her from offering another mouthful of food, "Do you think his offer is genuine?" she asked in a voice that was hardly more than a raspy whisper.

"I dare to hope. Lord Motta is more than wealthy enough to make good on his offer."

"As soon as possible tell him I approve," Brittany stopped for a moment and both servants knew she had more to say but needed a moment to be able to say it, "Ask him if he can convince any of his friends in the West or North to agree to the same."

"Wait," Santana said, her brow furrowed, "wasn't that already the offer before?"

"No," Brittany started, but when she coughed it was Matthew who elaborated.

"The offer of the king sovereign was to buy the land from his subjects for substantially less than what it was worth. There was no offer of new land nor of profit security. I think it was something that could have been negotiated… had our king bothered to negotiate. However, with Lord Motta willing to compromise this could well be the bargain that could win the South to our side, if not all of it, enough to convince the surrounding lords that we are not as foolish as we seem at the moment."

"And you don't worry that the king will take issue with this?" Santana asked Brittany worriedly.

The blonde gave a weak chuckle, "Since the South offered these terms first I can safely claim that I did not believe this to be a show of weakness seeing as how that was what upset Artie the most. However, I suspect he will take issue with everything I have done since he left," she paused to breathe deeply, her lungs seemingly unable to handle the strain - it tore Santana apart to watch, but she did so unflinchingly. "The way I see it he will be upset regardless, so I may as well do what I think is right and earn his wrath rather than cower and do nothing with the same result."

Matthew looked down at the paper in his hand like there was something on it he hadn't read yet before bowing and excusing himself from the room.

Santana watched him go, wondering why he had left in such a hurry, but eventually decided it didn't matter as she went back to feeding Brittany.

"Is Samuel awake?" she asked quietly.

"I don't hear the shriek of a dying cat, so I will assume no," Santana replied on reflex, and immediately regretted it. "Sorry, no he isn't, not yet."

Brittany clearly noticed the slip and seemed to consider saying something about it before she moved on, "He doesn't know what to say to me."

Santana frowned at her, "Who?"

"Matthew. Whenever we speak of how Artie treats me when he's angry Matthew doesn't know what to say."

"I can think of a few things," Santana growled.

"Hmmm, I bet you can," she laughed, "but his relationship with Artie is much different than mine, I think that's why he has such a hard time."

Santana watched Brittany stare at the door as if she were searching her memory for proof of her own words.

"What makes his relationship so different? You were all children together, and I can't imagine him treating Matthew with any more respect than he does now."

"He doesn't, but whatever else was between them they have always been close friends."

Santana still didn't see how that could ever be with a man that tried so hard to be kind and a king who was evil so easily, "I will have to take you at your word."

She gladly continued to feed Brittany in silence before the blonde lifted a hand to stop her. Confused, Santana waited for instruction but none came, the queen merely looked at her for a long time, the silence enveloping the room.

Only when it had gone on so long it became worrisome did Santana attempt to talk, but thankfully Brittany spoke first.

"You don't like him any better," she said, not questioning but telling and assuming Santana understood whom she spoke of.

She did.

"How could I? He's an infant and I have only known him a short time, I'll do better," Santana said determinedly, deciding that if she couldn't find it in her to genuinely like Samuel she could at least pretend.

"I always wanted a child, ever since I was one, because I loved my parents so blindly, but they didn't much care for me. So I thought if I had one that was anything like me we could be there for each other," Brittany's words were slow and, to Santana, cutting.

"And my love doesn't count."

She smiled, "Your love counts, in ways you don't even know, I just want you to understand my feelings on the matter before we met." Feeling less wounded Santana nodded, "I found it in me to feel that way because I knew I was going to have to produce an heir whether I wanted to or not, and I figured it best to make it something I wanted. But of course fate gave me what I asked for at the worst moment making me wish for the first time that I was as barren as Artie claimed, because I knew how it would hurt you."

Seeing her eyes water, Santana shook her head, "You don't need to explain yourself to me-"

"Yes, I do," she said evenly, "You still seem to think I have chosen to ignore your feelings for the chance to raise a king, but that is not true. As much as I wanted a child of my own I would have given up the chance easily if it meant you wouldn't look at me the way you do," and with that the creeping shame returned to the brunette, "but having him was what was best for us."

"How?" Santana snapped, far more indignantly than she had meant.

"Can you honestly not see it yourself?"

And when she thought, she could. Already she knew this to mean Archibald would have no reason to visit her chambers any longer, though she wasn't under the delusion he never would again, it wouldn't be like it had been.

"It does allow for him to leave you be."

She nodded, "And a lack of an heir was the main source of his animosity towards me. Besides all of that it is my understanding that forcing a child from the womb can be as dangerous as actually giving birth and would have done nothing to stop Artie from trying again."

For the first time she started to see how this was bound to happen one way or the other, and if it hadn't the consequences would be so much more dire. Santana was starting to see that Brittany had not become a wise strategist with her ascension to the throne; she always had been. It was a must for a woman who only had herself to rely on for so many years.

"I see all that, but…"

"But it still upsets you, I know."

Brittany struggled to sit up straighter and managed to move slightly higher up before Santana set her food aside to help.

"Don't concern yourself with me, I will get over this."

Looking to the crib, the blonde gave a soft sigh, "I know you will or pretend, failing that," the smaller woman tried not to look surprised Brittany knew her so well. "What I wish is for you to love him as I do, because he will need all he can get. I do not suspect Artie will see him and change his nature, he will teach his son to be like him, to be cruel and spiteful. I want to teach him to be thoughtful and kind, and not to ignore the pain of others."

"And what if those lessons don't take?"

"Then at least I will have tried."

Santana nodded and reached for the bowl again before lowering her hand and looking at Brittany again, at her still grey completion and sunken features to her weary eyes, now questioning the pause.

"Why didn't you tell me all that before?"

"I don't know, I suppose because I didn't want you to feel any worse about my life than I already do," she laughed slightly.

"You did it to protect me," Santana clarified, "and from here on I'd rather you didn't. I'm not smart enough to figure you out, so you'll have to just tell me what's on your mind. I know you want to protect me, but leaving me in the dark hurts just as much- no, more when I realize that all the things I thought of you were so very callous and wrong. I will stop trying to run from what scares me, to be here for you, and you have to stop hiding your thoughts from me."

Brittany gave her a shy smile, "I've never been accused of being smarter than someone."

"I'm serious," Santana said sternly and the blonde nodded quickly.

"I know, I will. I should have all along. Even though I have been ruling for so long, and been with you longer, I'm still not used to someone wanting to know my thoughts," she said softly.

Santana remembered the few times the queen had voiced her opinion in her husband's presence and immediately softened, leaning forward to give Brittany the first kiss they had shared since Samuel was born.

"You don't have to hold everything inside, you don't have to be a knight anymore, it's okay to let me share your troubles and I will do the same."

Brittany nodded, taking Santana's hand in her gentle grasp before the smaller returned to feeding her.

Content with the flow of the conversation, Santana was more than a little irked when Samuel woke crying leaving it to her to fetch the child and bring him to his mother. And as she watched Brittany feed him it wouldn't leave her mind how it seemed as if the boy leeched all the strength the woman had recently gained. She helped the queen hold him until she was too weak to do so anymore, leaving Santana to do it alone.

Clearly exhausted from the morning's activities, Brittany sank back into her bed and seemed to immediately fall back to sleep, leaving Santana to look at the infant as he whined and waved his arms uselessly in the air.

Resignedly she allowed him to grasp her finger, if for no other reason than to get him to hold slightly still. It worked; the contact seemed to calm him and his shaky whimpers ceased as his hand clutched her with all his might. Sadly, Santana noted that his strength was hardly less than his mother's at the moment. And then she remembered whose fault that was, making her look into his eyes and see the man she hated.

And suddenly she needed him to be far away from her.

Santana moved to return Samuel to his bassinet, but a gentle hand rested on her arm. To her surprise it was Brittany, one eye cracked open to take in her face, "I know you hold no love for him, but I think you may like him better if you do not blame him for his father's sins."

A scowl crossed her face at being read so easily once again, and in the interest of no longer keeping feelings hidden she said, "That might be less difficult if I didn't feel as if he were so likely to repeat those sins."

Brittany nodded softly as she closed her eyes again, "I fear that too, that's why we need to teach him better."

Determined to prove she could be near the infant for more than a short while, she sat there holding him, sitting next to the queen until she was sure the other woman was asleep. Only then did she stand and place him back in his soft bed, staying at his side to prevent him from crying out as he seemed to dislike being left alone. She allowed him to continue to hold her finger as she looked down at him and after little time had passed he began to show signs of fatigue when he gave a tiny yawn.

"Be better than him," Santana said softly, "Be better than your father, it's not hard. Sam was a kind boy despite what his family wanted, maybe his name and your mother's blood will give you the strength to be someone worth all this."

The baby gurgled, his eyes opening slightly at the sound of her voice and he squeezed her finger again.

Santana chose to take that as an acknowledgement.

* * *

Not long after the sun warmed the land just enough for letters to be sent again bringing biggest change in the castle since the prince's birth; Matthew had found a wet nurse for the prince. The woman hailed from a nearby village and had rather unfortunately lost her own child to the cold. When she arrived she looked as if someone had removed the life from her eyes. Santana worried that the woman's grief may lead to her doing something rash, but once she saw Samuel it seemed to soothe her slightly making Santana less worried when she left the woman with the infant. It would mark the first time the prince would be left to sleep in his own room which was a relief since his cries had meant neither she nor Brittany had slept through the night since he was born.

It would mean that finally the queen would have a chance to rest and regain her strength.

Santana was almost prancing by the time she reached the servant's dining hall, glad at being a step closer to having her lover back the way she was. When she got there she found Puck and Matthew in their usual spots, and to her surprise Sunshine sat with them shoveling her food into her mouth as if she couldn't wait to return to the smithy.

Santana retrieved a bowl of stew and sat at the table across from Puck and the small girl, noting how she had taken up his habit of working without a coat. Her small arms were bare and now bulging with muscles, no doubt gained from long days of hard work. As if to prove it her fingers were covered in blisters and there were shiny scars along her forearms that Santana knew had come from mishandling the fire. However, the girl seemed nothing but happy.

"Morning," Matthew greeted as he continued to read a parchment next to his bowl, "How did Shelby fair?"

"You are saying things I don't understand again," Santana said, scooping a mouthful of the unusually colorful stew into her mouth. She was surprised that the taste was actually quite improved, not by a great deal, but enough to tell something had changed.

"Shelby, she is caring for Samuel, I am correct in assuming that was who you left the prince with?"

Santana felt bad that she hadn't asked the woman's name, "Yes, I did, I just… am I the only one who thinks the food is different?" she asked to divert attention from the fact.

"We ran outta that crap servant meat," Puck answered, "They gotta give us real meat 'til winter passes."

"Puck," Matthew said suddenly, looking at the paper quite intently, "May I speak with you a moment? In private?" he asked and stood to leave before the other man could answer.

Everyone gave each other questioning looks before Puck followed, leaving Sunshine and Santana alone. Remembering her long ago promise to be kind to the girl, she leaned forward to try to start a conversation, but Sunshine gulped down the last of her food and scampered off. It seemed to her that the girl didn't need anyone to be able to cope in this place, she made her own way and stayed out of trouble.

Santana envied her a great deal.

By the time she returned to Brittany Matthew was already there, standing by her bed and reading a letter that seemed to be falling on deaf ears since the queen appeared to be sleeping. However, when she got close she saw a blue eye open and find her in the room before a soft smile fell over Brittany's face.

"Don't you think you could let her rest just for today?" Santana asked as she came in to sit at Brittany's side when she saw her morning meal was waiting on the small table by the bed.

"Just a few notes and I'll be off," Matthew replied, "And you as well, Beiste isn't too pleased with her progress, so we will leave her in the care of her healers until she regains the strength to walk on her own." Brittany gave him a look that prompted him to add, "Of course your nights will still be spent here."

Santana nodded in understanding as she helped Brittany sit up to receive her food, and as she fed the blonde she spoke quietly to her.

"Samuel is in good hands, the woman who watches him lost a child of her own and is clearly cares for him. He will do well with her for the short time they are together."

Brittany was obviously relieved by Santana's approval and may have said as much, but Matthew cut across them.

"Ahem, in regards to Lord Hummel, he regretted being unable to assist in that matter since to help the prince would have meant to help his father and he must remain neutral."

"Tell him we think no less of him," Brittany said, her voice barely floating above a whisper.

"I will. Also the king writes that he would like for you to announce the prince's name as Archibald Samuel Abrams before the council."

The queen did not respond, merely taking in another mouthful of porridge, then another, before Matthew sighed.

"Shall I assume this one was lost on the way here?"

Brittany gave a half shrug, "These things happen."

"Right," he said, ripping the letter up, "That is all for today then."

With that Matthew left and Santana couldn't help but laugh, "Were you always so defiant?"

Brittany laughed as well, "Yes."

And when she thought back on it that was very true. Brittany had always been a woman who smiled broadly in the face of a man whose only pleasure seemed to be making her miserable.

She had always stood up to her greatest fears and pains and even took on new ones for those she cared about. Like Sunshine, she was a much braver person.

And as she fed her brave love her breakfast she could feel the faint tingle of deep wounds that had only ever healed physically.

Maybe Elisa hadn't been wrong to keep her from Sam, it was possible she saw what a sniveling coward she would be towards the hardships of the world and tried to teach her a well deserved lesson.

Then she considered what that would mean for Brittany if that were true, and she resolved that if she did nothing else in her life, she would make sure that she proved Elisa wrong.

* * *

By midday Santana found herself in the odd position of having nothing to do.

With the healers tending to Brittany, there being no court, council, or meetings of any kind and the cold keeping her from even dreaming of setting a toe outside there was nowhere for her to be.

She had sat in her own empty room for some time, attempting to nap, but found it strangely difficult to fall asleep without Brittany. So she had ventured out into the halls without anywhere to go, leaving her to end up in the only place she could go when everything outside was painfully cold: the smithy.

To her surprise she found Puck half asleep where the master armorer usually napped as Sunshine pounded the dents out of shields and helmets before tending the fire with a poker to keep it high.

Quietly she walked up to him and kicked his leg, startling him into full alertness, "What?!" he snapped, more out of surprise than anything.

"Is this what you do with your days now?"

"She does good work," he said, reclining once again now that he knew who had disturbed him, "N' she's eager t' learn, why take that from her?"

"You don't have to take it, you could share the work."

"I usually do, but…" he stopped and folded his arms across his chest as he watched Sunshine drag a breastplate over to her anvil.

"But?" Santana prompted as she sat next to him.

"I gotta lot on my mind," he said evasively.

"Okay."

They silently watched the small girl mold the iron back into the correct shape before he started to fidget.

"I don't want t' talk about it," he grumbled.

"I hadn't asked-"

"Quinn had a baby," he blurted.

Santana squinted at him, the name didn't ring familiar, "Who?"

"The woman I went t' see at Kurt's caravan."

"Oh!" she said with sudden understanding. "Oh," she repeated understanding more.

"When Matthew asked fer help Kurt wrote that Quinn was a nursin' mother. She's gotta little girl, name's Bethany."

He seemed so far away when he said that Santana wondered if her words would reach him.

"So are you the child's-"

"Yeah," the words left him in a gruff grumble, "Least that's what Matthew says Kurt says she says."

"And I take it this doesn't make you happy."

He sat up suddenly, rubbing his head, "It ain't the baby part, love. It's the me bein' the pa part."

"That was what I meant."

"No, I mean I ain't there for her, like my pa wasn't there for me. She deserves better n' to be the bastard kid of a slave that ain't even around."

"But she has her mother, Quinn, right? And she's born free."

He nodded and cradled his head in his hands, "Yeah."

"So why are you so down?"

"I don't know."

"You want to be with them."

Santana and Puck both jumped at the voice that sounded next to them, to their astonishment Sunshine had stopped hammering and come to sit on the other side of Puck, unseen, until that moment. They both looked over at the abandoned anvil and back to the small girl as if neither could believe she wasn't still over there.

"What?" Puck asked as if her words were too foreign to understand.

"You want to be with them. Is why you are sad."

"I… guess," he said warily, "But if Quinn wanted me around she woulda wrote me herself. She ain't the settlin' type so I don't see us makin' a family. I'm worried Bethany'll always wonder if I even care 'bout her. And I do, more n' I though a person ever could fer someone they never met."

"My family sold me for food," she said, kicking her feet as they dangled off the bench since her legs were too short to touch the ground, "I think it better to think you are loved than know you are not."

With that she hopped off the bench and returned to the hammer and anvil before pummeling a particularly stubborn dent.

"It's as she said," Santana added with a shrug.

"I dunno, I guess it is."

"You can always write her."

"Can't write," he replied.

"Don't act as though Matthew wouldn't help."

Puck nodded slightly and shook his head as if to rid himself of looming thoughts, "Yeah, he would. Anyway, how have you been fairin'?"

"Well enough," when he looked skeptical she rolled her eyes, "Some days are harder than others, but I have heeded your advice."

He smiled, "Good."

They sat and watched Sunshine a while longer before he turned to her again, but this time his voice was far more quiet and, though she had never heard it in him before, shy.

"Santana?"

"Yes?"

"Don't take this wrong but… I mean you likin' girls aside… is the queen better at sex than me?"

Santana knew her face was totally red, because it was burning hotter than the furnace, "Wha- ho- why would you-"

"Calm yerself, it's just a question."

She glared at him fighting between how he came to that question in his mind and wondering if she should even dignify it with an answer.

"Yes," she said finally.

He seemed surprised but nodded and leaned back for a moment. A short moment, because soon he asked, "How? I mean I heard o' women who c'n pleasure each other, but I mean I can do the same things, right? It's about tongues n' fingers n'-"

"Puck, can we leave it?"

"Okay, but I want you t' know that you never saw me at m'best."

"I'm sure."

More silence before, "How much better?"

Santana stood to leave, bundling her coat around herself and heading for the door giving Sunshine a hasty goodbye. However, seeing Puck's disappointed face made her turn before exiting.

"If you must know, the difference between you is the difference between a puddle and the ocean. Even if it rained the puddle still wouldn't compare, but don't let that hurt your pride I'm sure others disagree."

"Well, I won't believe others 'til they tried both," he pouted, and then his face lit up, "But I am th' best puddle you ever splashed in!"

She laughed, "Sure, you may have that title from me."

In response Sunshine, clearly finding the discussion awkward, pounded her hammer down with far more force than Santana figured she would ever need.

* * *

A/N: Swear this was done days ago but there was a hitch in the beta/writer communication line. I will do better.

Thanks for the support, your reviews, favorites, follows and pm's keep me going :)


	21. Chapter 21

Santana sat looking down at the soon-to-be-recognized crown prince of the Abrams Kingdom. She sat with her knees together and drawn up so she wouldn't have to actually hold him, partially because her arms had been getting tired, but mostly because he seemed to have the idea that she was meant to nurse him as well. She had been asked to wait outside the council doors until the prince was to be presented to the council and formally accepted as the next in line to rule, a task she had only taken because the request had come from Brittany.

Shelby was more than capable of handling the boy and she seemed almost pained every time he was taken from her, to the point that Santana almost felt bad doing it. Especially when she cared for watching him so little.

Even now she looked off into space thinking back on that morning when she had returned from her meal to see Brittany being dressed for the day for the first time in a long time.

Beiste had only recently allowed Brittany to travel to and from the bath on her own and today marked the first day she was allowed to return to her duties. At least partially. Her only official act of the day was going to be to present the prince before the council, which Santana didn't totally understand outside the fact that it was tradition, and afterwards she was scheduled to meet with a handful of lords and ladies before resting for the remainder of the evening. It was merely a precaution however, Brittany's color had returned and the light was back in her eyes, she seemed even more like her old self than she had before, more like the Brittany she knew before the pregnancy.

Though it was disheartening for Brittany to make such a strong recovery only to find that now that she was well enough for them to be alone together she wanted to spend the time in Samuel's company as well.

A loud pining noise snapped her from her thoughts and she looked down to the child before her as he stared at her with his eerily familiar eyes.

"Don't let them push you around in there, you take your crown with dignity and pride," she advised, a serious look on her face. In response he blew a spit bubble. "That's the spirit," Santana laughed.

And when she laughed Samuel watched her for a heartbeat before his small face exploded into happiness and he laughed as well. When he did the oddest feeling of surreal surprise took over Santana, because she could suddenly see his mother in his face. The way his eyes lit up as his nose wrinkled with his mirth, it was exactly the same as Brittany and she knew that for sure because she had memorized everything about her.

The child shared his father's eye color, but when he laughed all she could see was the woman she loved so deeply.

And just like that it was harder to ignore him.

With a sigh, she allowed the feelings inside her settle and even danced her fingertips across his belly, making him laugh again. The sound forced a permanent smile on her face as she watched him flail in response, not knowing what to do with his limbs, having mercy she wrapped him more securely in his blanket. He continued to smile up at her, and, like with Brittany, she felt her heart soften to him a little more; she couldn't confess any particular love for him, but the same had been true for the queen at one point.

It was then that Matthew came out of the large doors a small ways down the hall and walked over to her looking inquisitive. She was sure he was wondering why she was so far away, but she didn't feel like explaining her mistrust of the angry looking guards by the door so stood to greet him, Samuel secure in her arms.

"It's time?" she asked.

Matthew nodded and escorted them into the large room that was as intimidating as always. Santana walked in and stood next to Brittany who looked positively regal in her coat, hints of bright blue showing from the dress underneath, the color making her eyes seem even more intense when they found her. Santana had learned how to read the subtle looks Brittany would send her, and the one being sent at that moment was of love and comfort, something that made standing before all the grumpy looking councilmen an easier task.

Brittany stood and moved to her side, placing a steadying hand on the small of Santana's back before she spoke, "My lords, I present Prince Samuel Abrams."

The room was silent for a long time, longer than Santana was sure was normal, before a man at the far left of the front row cleared his throat, "Majesty, the council cannot recognize him until you have stated his full name."

Brittany blinked back at him as if he had asked what color snow was, "I did, my lord, Samuel Abrams."

The man seemed surprised by the answer and there were mumbles amongst the men at the table, after a time they settled and the man at the front center spoke.

"Please know it is not traditional-"

"My lords, I have presented my son and told you his name, do you recognize him or not?" her tone was neither cold nor stern, she spoke with a sweet, flighty voice yet it was clear that nothing would change her mind. She'd said what she meant.

He sighed heavily, as if long ago resigned to Brittany's near constant breach of protocol, and replied, "If anyone holds evidence that this child was not conceived of our crowned king and his queen speak now." There was a long pause in which no one spoke, "Then the council recognizes Prince Samuel Abrams as the rightful heir to the throne. With this we are adjourned."

Brittany nodded happily and turned to Santana who was still a little tense from all the attention, even if it had been aimed at Samuel. When they left Matthew followed them all the way to the greeting room, informing her of a few select lords and ladies she was to meet with, one of which happened to be Lord Motta himself. Santana figured this to be a momentous occasion since Matthew was beside himself with nerves whenever he spoke of the man. She supposed it was because a prominent southern lord had bothered to travel to their castle to break bread under the banner of peace while war raged, but honestly she didn't care. Her only wish as far as the war was concerned was that Archibald catch a stray arrow to the temple.

Matthew left, still muttering on nervously and once again Santana was left holding Samuel at a time when she would prefer to hold Brittany, but she calmed herself and sat next to the queen on the large plush lounge that sat against the far wall. It was meant only for royalty and noblemen to sit on, but as she holding the future ruler of the kingdom Santana's presence on the crimson couch was allowed. Though she was quite sure that even if she wasn't Brittany would have found a reason for her to be there.

As she found a comfortable niche at Brittany's side, she offered the child to his mother and Brittany gingerly took him, smiling at him and receiving an almost identical one in return.

"Will you tell me why he has no second name?" Santana asked, her tone light to make it clear she was merely curious.

"He does, it's nothing," she said, taking Samuel's small hand in her own and kissing it softly.

Santana could feel her brow furrowing with the effort of figuring that out, sometimes her lover was a complete mystery to her, "So his second name is… silence?"

"His second name is the same as our maiden names."

And then she understood. The name that Santana lost and the one Brittany was never given, Samuel had inherited the missing name that they shared.

"I see, well if nothing else you have made it easier for him to learn his name during his schooling."

She laughed, "I don't think Artie knows how to spell his second name to this day."

"That will never be said of Prince Samuel."

"It won't," Brittany laughed again and her son, seeing her mirth, laughed as well.

Santana only watched, starting to see for the first time how things could turn around, how this child wouldn't always feel like an intrusion in her life. And she was so deep in her own thoughts it came as a complete surprise when soft lips met hers in a brief kiss that snapped her back to reality.

"What is on your mind?" the queen asked kindly.

"You," Santana replied simply with a kind smile, "Always."

Before more could be said Matthew returned with Shelby at his side, "Majesty, Lord Motta has arrived and will be in shortly. Santana may stay at your side, but I fear the prince may tire of negotiations quickly, so it is best if he were looked after."

With a heavy sigh Brittany handed Samuel back to Shelby who seemed almost bow tense until the infant was in her arms.

Matthew prattled on about the meeting and all they were to go over, he stressed the importance of politeness, courtesy, and observation of tradition. The last part was his subtle way of telling Santana to reseat herself in the small chair in the corner reserved for servants. She did so without complaint, Brittany looked rather disgruntled but allowed it when Santana gave her a look that begged her to behave.

It wasn't long before Lord Motta joined them, wearing a touch more furs than even this harsh winter called for, surrounded by servants who were equally overdressed, making the large room seem small with their numbers.

Santana sat in the corner for what felt like the better part of the morning and most of the afternoon, listening to the man ramble about his family and wanting the fighting to stop so his daughter could continue to receive her favorite jewelry from a vendor in town. Brittany listened to it all as if every word was fascinating before finally getting him to go over the terms of a truce.

The meeting ended with both sides satisfied, and when Brittany promised to send over a few pieces of jewelry to the lord's daughter as a gift it was as if she had promised to give him her crown. He left beyond pleased and Matthew looked like he could breathe freely again.

There were a few more lords who came after, though none as prominent nor as demanding as Lord Motta, yet at the end of it all Santana was more than ready to be rid of the room. Even though they usually spent longer stints of time listening to the problems of nobles, she had become rather accustomed to having her days to herself and it was difficult to return, even partially, to the royal routine. She left, leading Brittany directly back to her room to prepare for bed, only to find that after all her hurrying the blonde seemed reluctant to change out of her day clothes.

"I really am better, I don't feel the need to sleep so much," Brittany griped as Santana sat her in front of her vanity and used the prepared bowl of warm water and cloth to clean away the powders that colored her face.

"Beiste ordered it and I would never forgive myself if you end up as you were."

She rolled her eyes, "I am well now, can't you tell?" she asked as she stood to allow Santana to unbutton her dress.

After unclasping the last button and removing the dress the queen gave Santana a hard look forcing her to stop trying to stall her way out of the conversation, "I can," Santana replied on her way to get one of Brittany's nightgowns.

"Then why can't I do something else? Like go to the library, or take a carriage ride out of the castle? It isn't so cold I can't even venture outdoors for a brief moment."

Santana returned with the nightgown and discreetly looked over Brittany's form, the tall woman had indeed regained her coloring and was looking leagues better than she had, but she was still very thin. After her pregnancy Brittany's weight dropped below what it had been before, making her seem like she was still as frail as she had been.

"You are better, mi reina, but you are still at risk to be ill again. Beiste is a healer, so I think it best we listen to her."

Brittany took a bold step forward taking Santana's face in her hands, "Do you not find me as desirable as before?"

Startled by the question, she blinked rapidly trying to think if there had been something in her face that had sent that incorrect message, "No, you are as beautiful as ever," she reassured all while trying to keep her mind from doing what it seemed conditioned to do whenever Brittany was pressed against her. Especially now that the queen was completely naked.

"Then will you help me keep the tedium of sleep away?" she asked and Santana could easily read what exactly she had in mind, though if she had any doubts the hand sliding under her furs and shirt would have been a major hint.

"Brittany," she said firmly, though her voice did break a little because she most _definitely_ wanted to help her keep the tedium of sleep away, "You need to sleep right now, when you wake you will eat and I will bring you to your bath. I desire you like I always have, but I won't give in if it means you could be sick again." When it was clear she was going to argue Santana gave her a kiss to silence her and asked, "If it was me would you risk it? Say yes and I will take you to that bed and ravish you until you are completely satisfied. Tell me the truth."

For a moment it was clear that Brittany was torn between honesty and lust, but honesty won out as she sighed and took the nightgown from Santana's hands, "I wouldn't."

Pleased, Santana helped her into it, and when it was pulled over her head she leaned in close to Brittany's ear and whispered, "Don't worry, mi riena, I have no plans to stay away forever," her words were punctuated with a feather light kiss to her ear that sent shivers through the tall blonde.

Quickly she spun out of the queen's grip, knowing full well that if she stayed next to her she would lose her resolve to wait.

"How am I supposed to sleep next to you with promises like that?" Brittany asked with a pout.

"I'll stay above the sheets."

"Then how will I stay warm?" she asked with a childlike innocence that was undermined by the devious look in her eyes.

"I'll have someone stoke the fire."

With a heavy sigh she crawled under the covers and Santana dutifully lay on top of them, curling up in Brittany's arms and wrapping her own around her queen's slim frame. They lay next to each other in a comfortable quiet that lay over the room like a blanket, the only sound was the faint wisps of the wind beyond the walls and the soft crackling of the fireplace. Santana let the sounds lull her into a state of drowsiness wherein she lost long stints of time drifting in and out of sleep, a state she was roused from by the sound of Brittany's voice.

Her eyes opened slowly and she looked up to see that Brittany's eyes had changed, they weren't lusty or playful, they were incredibly sad, and that woke her more than the faint words had.

"What did you say?" Santana questioned, sitting up.

"I said I'm sorry, for being a terrible knight."

Confused she thought hard to try and understand where that had come from, "What do you mean by that?"

"I should let you go. I should have sent you away ages ago, but I didn't... and I know I should, but I can't."

"Where are these thoughts coming from? What makes you think I want to leave?"

"These thoughts are always with me, because every day I am with you I somehow manage to love you more and it means every day it gets a little harder to do the right thing by you."

Santana frowned at the notion, she hadn't even been aware Brittany had harbored worry over the issue, "I don't want to go-"

"I know you don't want to, but I know you need to."

Still not grasping why this had broken through to her now she asked, "You're worried about us being found out?"

"That, and you being beaten again, or of Artie returning with someone he believes will give you a child to be a servant to Samuel, or of him taking a liking to you himself. I worry about all the ways you could be hurt or killed for less than nothing, and I marvel at my selfishness when I think of those things and keep you here anyway."

"You aren't keeping me here, even if you sent me away I'd find my way back."

Brittany looked at her with those sad eyes and squeezed her tighter, "I still have that patch of land waiting for you, it's still there for you to live on, to be away from all this. You could become a healer and do all the things you've ever wanted."

"The only thing I would be free to do is die alone because the woman I love sent me away against my will. I have no desire to leave you and it would only hurt me if you forced me to go, so sleep, and do not worry over it anymore."

"I can't help that I worry about you."

Santana sat up and looked down to her worried queen, realizing that this was the first time Brittany was coming to her with a problem. She was voicing something that was bothering her deeply where it had always been her proclivity to keep it inside, Brittany was doing as she promised and Santana understood that it was now her responsibility to help.

Thinking for a moment she decided that she would use the tactic of the best comforter she knew and took Brittany's hand in her own, threading their fingers together.

"How about when you think of the future, don't think of all the horrible things that could be. Think of you and me together years from now, looking up at the stars in each other's arms because through everything that happened we stayed together. We made it through and even though we are much older we still make each other happy, in every way. Think of me loving you even when I'm as old and wrinkled as the men in council and remember that there is nothing that anyone could say or do to change that."

Brittany's eyes shined with tears as she curled up closer, "You could die," she said in barely a whisper.

"We will all die one day. I can't speak for you, but I know death wouldn't keep me from loving you."

The corners of her mouth twitched up, "It wouldn't stop me either."

"Then it's settled. When you are worried, remember that I will always love you."

Santana barely got the words out before Brittany was holding her close and kissing her gently, and soon the queen settled into a true, peaceful sleep.

* * *

The midday rest for Santana meant that she was far more awake in the night hours than she needed to be. It made her fidgety and usually left her to watch Brittany sleep, thinking of all the things she would love to do with her out in the light of day if their affair wasn't so very forbidden.

This particular night it seemed Brittany had run into the same problem, they lay next to each other in silence, but Santana had become rather skilled at being able to tell when the blonde was sleeping and when she was just holding still. This was a case of her being still.

Though the skill was made unnecessary when Brittany suddenly sat up and said, "Bring Samuel to me."

Santana sat up as well, completely baffled, but she complied, crawling out of bed and pulling on her coat before stepping out into the hall that seemed to be freezing compared to the bedroom. She walked the short distance to the prince's room only to be met at the door with the sounds of his cries. Slowly she opened the door and saw Shelby standing by her own bed placed in the corner of the room holding the infant, rocking him gently, trying to calm the squalling child.

The older woman started when she saw her enter, "What is it?" Shelby asked, clearly still a little shaken from the scare.

"The queen wishes to see the prince."

"There is no need for her to take him, I almost have him back to sleep," she countered as if Santana were questioning her competency.

"I don't think she heard him crying, she just wishes to see him," Santana explained slowly while making it obvious that she was irritated she had to do so.

Shelby looked down to Samuel then back up to Santana, "If you must."

She couldn't have taken more time in crossing the room if she tried, and when she finally handed the boy over it was the air of a woman who was having her very own son taken from her. For a moment Santana thought of commenting on it, but she didn't. Not only did she have no inclination to berate a mother who had recently lost a child for becoming overly attached, but she didn't know the first thing about that kind of pain and she wouldn't presume to have anything worthwhile to say to a person she hardly knew.

Instead she returned to the royal bedchamber with the prince and presented him to his mother. Brittany took him with a wide smile and upon seeing her exuberance his cries subsided and he once again mirrored her. Santana wondered idly if Samuel was merely reflecting the emotion of the person he was closest to, and if so what that would mean if he were ever near Archibald.

Brittany cooed over the child making him smile wider, Santana watched with a gentle expression before venturing, "You know the point of all this is so that you have time to sleep in the night."

She shrugged, "I'm not tired and I wanted to see Samuel, he hasn't been with me nearly as much as I would like."

"Did you know he was crying?"

"No, but I suspected it, he rarely sleeps through the night."

"He will sleep again soon, what will you do with him then? If I try to take him back he will surely wake."

"He can sleep here, he would have to make a serious effort to make it off this bed," she laughed and Santana had to concede it was unlikely that, with two women to bar his way, the child could make it to the edge of the bed without a map and guiding stars.

"Alright," Santana replied, content to watch Brittany fawn over the boy until they both drifted off.

"Tell us a story," Brittany implored, seemingly out of nowhere.

Squinting she looked the blonde over to try and tell if she was merely playing, but her eyes were wide and eager to hear whatever tale Santana might tell.

"Was this the plan the entire time? To have me tell a story to the two of you?"

"Would you be angry if it was?" she asked shyly.

Santana could only chuckle and shake her head, "No, I'm not angry, but I'm afraid I don't know any."

Disappointment immediately filled her eyes, "But Santana, you have to know one! And if not just make one up, you know how they go. It has to have a happy ending, though."

She now suspected that this seemingly random request was spurred by the tale she had told earlier in the day. The one where they grew old together and managed to achieve happiness through everything. Though the tale she had woven had been quite hopeful and whimsical it was still faintly possible and children's tales, to her recollection, were always filled with magic and odd, unreal situations. It was Brittany who excelled at those kinds of stories and she knew if she tried she would fail miserably.

But then again Brittany was pouting at her meaning she had no choice but to try.

Searching her memory she faintly remembered Elisa telling her and Sam a story about a wood imp and a troll, but all her mind would provide was that at the end the troll ate the imp for some reason. Giving up, she tried to take a portion of her own life and make it into a fantasy, but those would only be gruesome tales of a little girl whose cries for mercy were never heeded.

Then she remembered a story, one that she knew from her adult life, and though at the time it had been more of a concept, she knew it would suffice.

"Alright," she said indicating that she was ready, Brittany was clearly excited and sat up straighter, holding Samuel so he could see his storyteller, "There were once two people, a man and a woman that loved each other very much, who were taken captive in a land far from their home. The place they were imprisoned was dark and scary and full of hard work." Brittany seemed a bit taken aback by the bleak nature of the tale, but didn't interrupt. "The evil king of the castle hurt the woman especially badly, and kept her away from the man she loved. He didn't care that they needed each other to survive, that every day they were apart killed each of them on the inside. But one day they made a plan to run away and they did, they ran far away and made it back to their home."

"And they lived there happily for the rest of their days?" Brittany questioned, almost childishly eager for the happy ending.

Santana considered conceding, but didn't, "I don't believe they did," she said solemnly, "I think they escaped and arrived at their home to find nothing was the same. That all the time with the evil king had broken something between them, something that wasn't in their power to fix."

Brittany's smile faded and Santana knew she knew that the man and woman in this story were not as fictional as she claimed, "Santana this is supposed to be a happy story," the blonde said sadly, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"It is," she said, clearing her throat before continuing, "They stayed together, had a family and loved each other until the end of their days. Yet none of those things could erase what had happened or how deeply it changed them, so when they died it was with regret."

"Either you or I do not understand the meaning of the word happy," Brittany sniffled.

Santana chuckled and went on, "But death was not the end for them, their souls left their bodies and went out into the stars in peace. Many years later, when the world was much older, their souls returned and they were born once again. The man and woman started life over and met once more as new people, they fell in love again and lived a long and happy life without the evil king. They lived the life that had been taken from them and that life ended with love, family and no regrets."

By the end of that story the intensity of Brittany's smile could have rivaled the sun, "That was a great story."

"I don't think Samuel agrees," Santana said looking down at the child who was now sleeping.

"He liked it too, I think he was worried about the sad parts, but after he heard they got better he felt happy enough to sleep," she explained while placing the infant on the bed as she lay down next to him.

Santana quietly crawled onto the other side of Samuel and slid quietly under the covers, Brittany watched her with a placid expression before her face fell a little.

"Do you think Michael and Tina will have that hard a life back at their home?"

Looking up at the covered roof of the bed, she gave the barest thought to the pain and humiliation suffered by Tina in the room she was currently in, "I want to think they got home and were able to forget everything and be happy. But if I know anything about life, it's that things are never so easy."

"Do you think it could be that way for us?"

"We shouldn't think of the bad-"

"I meant the other part," Brittany said quickly, "about meeting again in another life? Do you think we could meet and live our lives together without anyone else coming between us?"

She didn't.

She hadn't thought it feasible when Michael had told her the story the first time and she didn't believe it now. For Brittany, however, she could tell this one lie.

"Yes, I think it will happen for us, too."

It was a lie Santana knew she could never trick herself into believing, but when Brittany fell asleep with a smile on her face it wasn't one she regretted telling.

* * *

The winter season began to wind down and soon letters from Archibald were coming almost daily as he prepared to move southwest to the captured outpost.

While the king was making war with two thirds of his allies Brittany cultivated a steady truce with the South. Lord Motta's wealth went far in persuading naysayers, soon a regular trade route was formed and construction on the king sovereign's desired strongholds was begun. Even the council had to admit that Brittany had done much to better the kingdom beyond what the king or the king sovereign had been able to do.

The queen grew stronger with every passing day, as did Samuel, and with the queen's renewed health the need for a wet nurse diminished into almost nothing. Shelby was only given charge of the prince during his naps and at night, and even then, from time to time, Brittany would request he sleep with her.

Santana could tell how much it pained the woman to lose him, but she could think of nothing to do about it. The fact that the queen wished to raise her son herself had been made clear to everyone, even the council. Though she supposed she understood how knowing something made it no easier to deal with.

With the return of the queen's health came the return of long court sessions. This was made worse by the fact that in his father's absence the prince, regardless of age, was expected to be present at such events. Santana had tried to argue with Matthew on the issue, but he buried her under nonstop talk of tradition dating back to the dawn of the kingdom.

So instead of her usual spot at her queen's feet she was seated in a large, ornate chair, placed right next to the throne. It was meant for the prince, but once again her peasant's bottom was allowed in contact with it because she had to hold him. Which was harder than it sounded, because Samuel was now filled with a desire to touch and taste everything in the world. Even with toys keeping him still was a chore, since he tired of them quickly. In such cases found if she allowed him to play with her hands and the cuffs of her sleeves he could be kept silent for a time, and if allowed to occasionally pester his mother he could be kept happy even longer. Though there were times where court ended to the sound of the prince screaming his disapproval of the proceedings to the world.

On this particular day Samuel was amicable enough as he played with a wooden horse that would spend short spurts of time in his hands before being jammed in his mouth.

Santana watched him chew on it as he looked up at her, a wide smile on his face, without hesitation a natural reciprocating smile was on her lips before she ruffled his reddish blonde hair that curled around his face. To her right, Brittany was listening to some man's long winded explanation of why his family should be paid more for their goods and services. It was clear the queen had bored of the man's lecture, but she listened anyway, her fingers drumming slowly on the arm rest of the throne.

Samuel noticed as well and crawled over to her. Brittany smiled at him, but for once he did not smile back, instead he looked down at Santana's steadying hand and grabbed at it. She allowed the prince to pull at her sleeve until her hand was under his control, and once he had it he pushed it down onto Brittany's, effectively stopping her drumming. And once their hands were together he smiled again and placed his horse on top as if he had finished a masterpiece.

The man never stopped talking, Matthew was writing down his complaint, the guards were watching the line of people waiting their turn and those people were busy being flustered over how to make their plea. And even if every eye had been on them it would have made no difference, the prince was allowed to do as he pleased and in no circle would the action have been seen as odd. But for the two women at the front of the room it was an incredibly intense moment, one where they looked at each other and then to Samuel, sharing something that was somehow intimate and private even with so many around. And when Santana looked at Samuel, for the first time she wasn't merely accepting his presence and gauging his worth by how much his mother valued him, she genuinely felt affection for the boy from this simple action.

The realization had been sudden, but when she thought on it the feeling was not. Now she understood that Samuel had taken a place in her heart from the moment she named him. And she also realized that Brittany had known that all along.

With an exaggerated huff she sat back in her chair, allowing her hand to stay where it was as Samuel played with their hands, giving Brittany an excuse to entwine their fingers. She sat watching the prince play and Brittany continue to listen to the rambling man while accepting that she had gotten what she had coming to her. What else should she have expected from falling in love with a master strategist?

Even now she couldn't profess that she loved the boy as much as his mother, but it was apparent to her that he meant more than she had dared to think he would. And true to her promise to herself she did not allow that knowledge to make a coward of her, she did not try to deny how she felt or steel herself against the possibility of those feelings growing deeper. Instead she calmly accepted it and settled comfortably into her seat, enjoying the warmth of Brittany's hand in hers.

Her sense of tranquility lasted her through the court session, even when Samuel began to become unruly. Rather than becoming upset at the sound of his cries she was able to soothe him by rubbing his back and rocking him gently as she left Brittany's side to find Shelby. Though she wasn't hard to find, the woman was always in the prince's room awaiting his arrival every evening for his midday nap and every night when he was to be put to bed.

Santana opened the door to the prince's room to find his caretaker right where she expected her to be, but the woman was hunched oddly on her bed clutching his blanket as if the smell of it was keeping her calm. Knocking gently Santana took a step in the door and Shelby leapt to her feet, rushing to retrieve the child without so much as a word of greeting. She suspected Samuel was the only being in the castle to have been on the receiving end of her smile.

It was a sight she wanted to take comfort in, but she didn't, the older woman's behavior was becoming more and more strange and though she didn't think she would hurt the prince Santana was still concerned. In her years as a slave she learned very quickly how to spot madness in a person's eyes. This woman wasn't there, not yet, but she seemed more uncomfortably close to the verge of it than any person should.


	22. Chapter 22

"I don't think Shelby should watch Samuel any longer," Santana said rather suddenly in the dark of the bedroom.

The light of the fireplace on the far wall gave the room a morose feel that matched the heaviness on Santana's chest from voicing her concern. She hadn't wanted to say it, she didn't think taking the only thing that brought the grieving mother peace was in any way kind, but it was something that concerned her and she couldn't hide it from Brittany while expecting the blonde to share her every worry.

She had assumed Brittany was mostly asleep when she spoke as it was quite early in the morning, but at the mention of her son's name she sat up right away, looking quite alert.

"Why?" she asked, giving Santana her full attention.

"I can't explain exactly why, but I think her love of him may be too much for her."

Brittany's brow wrinkled with a frown, "How can that be?"

"Did you know she lost a child? This winter?" When the queen nodded she continued, "I believe she thinks of him more as her own lost child than yours. What that could mean for him I don't know, but I think it best if she were to deal with her sorrows without Samuel."

The blonde drew her knees up to her chest, "I wouldn't want to insult her by taking him away as if she had not been wonderful to him, but if you are concerned, then it is what must happen. I will speak with Matthew about it, I have been meaning to have Samuel returned to our room for some time."

Santana supposed she should have been focused on the matter at hand, but instead she thought of how Brittany had just called the royal bedchamber 'our room'.

Even though her newfound love of the prince meant she no longer despised him she still did not care for him sharing a room with them. Once Brittany had been given Beiste's blessings for going about her usual routine they had hardly had a night where they weren't intimate and she feared that the moment Samuel was back in their care that would come to an abrupt end.

However, she didn't complain, she merely nodded and kissed her before rising to have her morning meal.

And with their talk having happened so early in the morning she was rather surprised when court let out later in the afternoon and Brittany informed her Shelby had been assigned other duties.

It was so sudden it surprised even Santana that the queen had acted so quickly.

The caretaker's absence meant that Santana now had to spend the evening with the prince, but unlike Shelby she wasn't exactly interested in sitting around the child's opulent room waiting for him to fall asleep. Instead, she bundled him up heavily and ventured outside to the snowy circle of land that had once been a blooming garden. The only constants were the pond and the large tree - though it was bare and the pond was frozen solid.

He whimpered at the cold and she drew his furs and blanket further around his head while she made her way to the pond's edge and sat at it just in time to hear Samuel begin to complain. Santana sighed in exasperation at how badly this was going already and took in a deep lungful of air in irritation at the fact that she was going to have to trudge her way back inside.

But then she considered that there may well be a way to get the prince to calm and maybe even sleep. Even though the solution didn't appeal she reasoned that he was a baby and therefore wouldn't remember any of it, so instead of getting up and returning to the warm of the castle she cleared her throat and sang.

Like before the notes did not leave her easily and the words still struggled to find their place in the melody, but after a short time she was able to adjust. Samuel, however, fell silent as soon as the first sounds left her mouth, his eyes firmly on her as he listened intently.

The song wasn't long, at least based on the parts she could remember, so she merely started again once she hit the end. She looped it again and again until the prince's wide eyes began to drift shut and Santana was left with only the song drifting through the still, silent air.

In that silence she somehow knew, long before the telltale crunch of snow, that she wasn't alone. She also knew the person approaching was Brittany, but she wasn't sure how.

"Does my song simply attract you to where I am?" Santana asked quietly without even turning around.

Giving up being stealthy, Brittany walked more swiftly to her side and knelt beside her, "Maybe it does," she said with a smile.

Santana grinned back, but stopped when she realized she hadn't been gone for very long, "Has something happened? Were you not meeting with nobles?"

Brittany chuckled and rubbed Santana's hair gently, "I was, but it was interrupted when Shelby told the guards that the prince had been taken from his room."

Confused, she raised the child gently, "He's right here."

"I know, I knew when she came to us in a panic."

"You knew I was here?"

"Not exactly, just that he was with you and safe. She expected you to be in his room and when you weren't she panicked. The guards are looking all over for him, so I guess I should let them know I found you."

Santana winced, "Azimio is going to kill me for this."

"No one will touch you," Brittany said in a tone so deathly serious it startled her a little, "I knew Samuel was alright, but it was an easy excuse to leave for a time; you won't be punished because of it. Besides there is no law stating that the prince must sleep in his room."

"I didn't mean to cause such a commotion, I only wanted to come outside the stone walls for a while," she said, standing and feeling highly irate that Shelby had made such a big problem out of nothing.

"I understand," Brittany replied, guiding them back towards the castle, "Though I miss the flowers and leaves there is a rather stoic beauty to the garden in winter."

Any reply Santana would have had was swallowed under the noise of several guards marching noisily towards them. The sound of clanking metal roused Samuel and soon his cries rivaled that of the approaching men. Brittany held up a hand to signal them to stop, and they did so, abruptly, forcing the person following to push to the front to see what had happened.

It did not surprise Santana to see that person was Matthew, and he looked quite flustered, "You found them," he stated unnecessarily to the queen.

"She was never lost, I told you the guards were not needed," Brittany said easily.

"Where did you take him?" Matthew asked Santana, but it was the queen who replied.

"To the garden, but it does not matter, she is allowed to take him wherever she pleases."

Instead of hearing Matthew's rebuttal Santana turned to try and calm Samuel as he had clearly tired of being ignored and began to cry harder. Bouncing him gently, she resumed her song, but in a low tone, for his ears only. His cries turned to sobs and then to silence as he listened, Santana smiled at the instant effect and kissed his temple softly. The prince was quiet and, far from the ongoing discussion, sleepy once more, he looked around drowsily for a short time before his lids slid closed. Santana watched him for a moment longer before looking around at her surroundings and her eyes immediately found the form at the far end of the hall.

Shelby was watching her, the older woman's face was completely unreadable, but there was still that threat of madness in her eyes. Holding her stare, Santana glared back, warning her away, away from what or why she did not know, but she wanted to discourage whatever thought was lingering in the grieving mother's mind.

Their stare down was broken by Brittany who called her name softly and Santana turned to see the guards were gone and Matthew stood alone, looking soundly defeated in his efforts to argue with the queen.

"Come, let's lay him down to sleep," Brittany offered as she placed a guiding hand on Santana's back and led her back down the hall.

She allowed herself to be steered away from Shelby's gaze, but not before giving the woman one last glance over her shoulder, and found she did not like the look of angry desperation that was there.

* * *

By nightfall the worrying glares from Shelby were forgotten and Santana was back to her normal concerns, not the least of which was how to keep Brittany from turning bath time into something else entirely. Santana had made it apparent to everyone she knew that she preferred to bathe before her evening meal which meant no one looked at her quizzically when she showed up at the servant's dining hall, her hair still damp from the washing the queen had given her.

A little exhausted she wandered in to, oddly, find only Sunshine sitting at the table Puck and Matthew normally occupied. She grabbed a bowl of the decent stew and sat across from the girl, feeling unreasonably nervous about starting her first one on one conversation with the her.

"Where are Puck and Matthew?"

"Puck bedding woman from kitchens, Matthew gone already," she answered quickly as she continued to eat.

"Oh," Santana replied simply.

There was a long pause as they both ate in silence before she plucked up the courage to ask, "What is your name? The name your parents gave you?"

The girl shrugged, "Doesn't matter, I like Sunshine. Means warm light. Old name means hard working."

She considered pointing out to the girl that she was quite hard working but decided to keep that to herself. "Okay," and before she could say another word Sunshine finished her food and dashed off to wherever it was she went in the evenings. The girl had long ago abandoned the small room by the king's and Santana suspected she probably was taking up residence in some small, secluded corner of the smithy.

Either way she was hardly going to fault her for making an effort to distance herself from the king's room whether he was in it or not.

After eating, Santana took the winding servants' stairwells back to the queen's room. She was in no particular rush since the last time she had been in the room Samuel had also been there, his bassinet set up in the far corner of the room while the child himself threw a fit at the idea of being put in it.

Her casual pace was probably why, when she passed one of the windows that overlooked the front courtyard, she caught sight of the people below. Two people to be exact. Azimio and Shelby stood in the shadows talking quietly, and for some reason the sight chilled her to the marrow. She supposed the source of her unease came from the fact that the discussion was clearly mutual, there was no distress or anger from either of them and that was worrying. There was nothing Santana could think of that would give Shelby reason to talk with the angry understeward.

Keeping herself hidden, she stayed in the shadows until the two parted ways, and then continued on to her destination. Once she was secure in the large room she moved quickly to Brittany's side and was so eager to warn her of what she had found that she was completely unprepared for the strong arms that reached out and pulled her easily on the bed.

Santana gave out a slight yelp only to be silenced with a soft kiss, "Samuel is sleeping, so we must be quiet," Brittany advised.

"I just saw Shelby with Azimio," Santana whispered quickly.

Brittany paused and gave her a questioning look, "Was he hurting her?"

"No, they seemed to be talking about… something."

"Is that bad?"

"I don't know, but I don't see how it could be good. I know she is grieving and lonely, but if I know one man who will not lend her a kind ear it is Azimio. Whatever they are speaking of it must be bad."

It was curious to her that the look Brittany gave at the news was somewhere between resigned and nonchalant, "Yes, I suppose that is true, she is unhappy about no longer being allowed to care for Samuel and has sought out Azimio. It could be for any number of reasons, one would be to find a way to pull you from me, so I would have no choice but to put him back in her care. She may have heard how he beat you before and wishes for the same occurrence again."

Santana frowned slightly, "May I assume it could be other reasons?"

The queen sighed, "It could be anything, we could spend all night trying to second guess them, but in the end all we can do is be even more careful in their presence. Besides, there are other things I'd rather spend my night doing," she purred into Santana's ear and the smaller woman suddenly had no desire to spend more time hashing out the details of a possible Shelby Azimio plot.

Especially not after Brittany began to nip at her ear as her hands began to expertly remove any barriers between them. Santana smiled, used to this method, she knew already what the other woman was attempting to do, she was trying to remain in control. Ever since Samuel was born Santana had found that it was far easier to bring Brittany to her peak than ever before, whether it be an after effect of the birth or having gone so long without, the queen needed little work before she was a quivering mess. And they both knew it, though Santana found the fact intensely fascinating Brittany was rather quick to keep her from exploiting the newfound weakness. So in compliance with her queen's wishes she allowed Brittany to kiss her jaw, neck and breasts, surrendering complete control to her lover who did as she pleased. Teasing was an art that she had long ago perfected, her fingers tracing patterns all over except where they were most needed, and when Santana could hardly stand another moment without pleading for release Brittany slid inside her and kissed her. It was deep, greedy, and, more importantly, silencing as Santana couldn't say a single word at the risk of losing the connection.

They kissed until air was mandatory and only then did Brittany relent slightly, her deep kisses turning gentle yet insistent as she brought Santana maddeningly close to the brink before finally having mercy.

A deep groan escaped her even though she was in the habit of trying to contain all sound; Brittany knew this, so Santana was more than aware that she was being playful when she said, "Quiet now, you'll wake the prince with all that noise."

Though her heart was still pounding wildly in her chest and she was still panting like she was winded, Santana found the strength to twist her hips in just the right way to flip their position. She knew Brittany wasn't ready to relinquish control at the moment and as such the move had to be a surprise if it was to be done at all. The queen gave a small gasp when she found herself pinned under Santana and a pleading look entered her eyes, because she was well aware that the woman above her was going to make her eat her own words.

Santana was more than a little pleased at the way the queen shuddered against her as she locked their bodies together in an intimate embrace, and when she moved her hips, pressing herself into Brittany's center, she already knew her queen was halfway there.

"Wait-" Brittany started, but Santana ignored her, knowing full well she would talk her way back on top if allowed half a chance.

She was pretty sure Brittany was a bit embarrassed by her sensitivity, but Santana found it particularly gratifying to be able to send her lover into such a state. When she began to move her hips in a regular rhythm she had hardly found a pace before Brittany was trembling beneath her, but she didn't stop, she merely rocked with her until she calmed slightly and kept going. It took longer for the telltale tremors to occur again but not by much, her attempts at keeping her pleasure internal failing a little more with every thrust and in no time deep moans escaped her throat.

Santana smiled into Brittany's neck as she kept moving, "Remember, you must be silent," she taunted.

Brittany tried to voice a response, but it was stolen from her by the feeling of Santana's fingers entering her, the brunette merely watched the queen taking pleasure in her disorientation. As she approached another climax Santana could feel her fingers dancing precariously over her back, a show of her queen's unsolicited determination to never harm her again, even though Santana had expressed time and time again that she did not mind scratches in the heat of passion. In fact she enjoyed them.

But Brittany had gone out of her way to never scratch her again, although on occasion it did still happen, just never to the degree it once had.

Knowing that keeping control of herself was becoming near impossible, she nuzzled close to Brittany's ear and whispered, "Don't be afraid to mark me, I'm yours to do with as you please, mi reina."

And those words did something, because she had hardly said them before the blonde was arching into her, Brittany's nails biting deliciously into her skin while she strained to keep from uttering a sound.

Santana kissed her softly until her breathing became normal enough for her to speak, "Must you exhaust me so thoroughly before I've had my fill of you?" Brittany huffed indignantly.

"Hmm?" Santana hummed as she rubbed her nose against the soft skin behind Brittany's ear, "Exhausted already?"

And like before the words seemed to invigorate the other woman, because in response she used Santana's own move against her and reversed their positions once again, "Not as exhausted as you think."

Santana chuckled, "If you think you can tire me first, then give it your best."

"Oh, I have no doubt I can."

And the look in her eyes made Santana inclined to agree.

* * *

The morning proved Brittany to be a woman of her word, because when Santana woke she couldn't remember falling asleep, only that the night had been full of silent pleasures. The last thing she could recall was Brittany above her, kissing her softly as a wave of fatigue settled in.

With a grumble she turned over in Brittany's arms to be closer to the source of warmth only to find no one was there. Alarmed, she sat up to find the queen in a different position, but not far away. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, Samuel in her arms as he played with a stuffed cloth lamb.

Turning towards them for a better view, she gained Brittany's attention, the blonde smiled back, "He woke before you did," she offered simply.

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm supposed to fetch him for you," she asked, sitting up slowly.

"I am capable of walking across a room, besides you needed your sleep since you clearly had an eventful night," Brittany said, her voice light and teasing.

"That I did," Santana admitted, "though with the young prince growing so quickly I would hardly expect for this to keep up. He will not remain unaware of his surroundings."

"I know, I only mean to keep him at my side until he is old enough to call for me in the night should he need to."

Santana groaned, "That will be years from now."

"Indeed, which means some nights he will have to sleep on his own for a time," she said, giving her a sly smile.

Standing, Santana moved in front of Brittany and bent over to offer the prince a morning kiss on the top of his head, earning her one from his mother on the nape of her neck.

With a laugh she turned to Brittany, "You were next," she said before giving her several consecutive kisses, the last one ending with a gentle nip to her lip.

"I know I was, but I couldn't wait."

Santana rested her forehead against the queen's, looking into deep, blue eyes and struggling to remember a time when they hadn't dominated her entire world. Her attention was pulled away by Samuel who laughed, gurgling slightly as he jammed the lamb back into his mouth.

"You know we cannot be so close around him forever either," Santana said sadly.

"I do," Brittany acknowledged, "I have always known that what we have must be kept from him, but I always like to think he would grow to be a man like Kurt who knows how to accept others."

"I believe he has your heart and with that there is every chance that your thoughts are absolutely correct."

With a final kiss Santana was finally able to pull herself away and go to the servants' dining hall where, to her surprise, she arrived just in time to see Sunshine storm off in anger. When she went to acquire food of her own she was in a perfect position to see the girl nearly throw her bowl onto the pile that had already accumulated and march out.

Giving her a fleeting glance, she turned to her usual table and sat next to Matthew and across from Puck, though both were looking rather determinedly at the table.

"Who shat in her porridge?" Santana asked, eyebrow raised.

"The king has won his battle against the West and is returning home," Matthew said quietly.

Santana felt her whole world shatter. Even though she had always known that there was a good chance that Archibald would return, her belief that his foolishness would get him killed had left her feeling safe from that option.

"How? Didn't he just begin his campaign against them?"

"He did," Matthew affirmed, "However, one of the Northmen he captured was the son of Lord Nelson, and since his force made up the majority of the stronghold's defense he was able to force a ceasefire and eventually surrendered in exchange for the return of his son."

"Plenty o' son's fightin' fathers already in this war, don't see why Nelson got soft allofa sudden," Puck grumbled.

Matthew sighed, "It inevitably had to do with the fact that he had eight sons when the fighting began at his Northern stronghold and after Archibald burned it he had exactly one. The boy was his only remaining legacy."

Santana was so sick of men and their unnatural love of passing unearned wealth to their sons, and her anger wouldn't have been deep if she weren't so sure that Lord Nelson wouldn't have made the same sacrifice if it were his daughter that had been in danger.

"How long until he returns?" she asked.

The well-spoken man shrugged, "Days."

"Days?" Santana repeated, a creeping panic in her eyes.

"I assume so, the letter I received was written as they were preparing to return here and the message couldn't travel too much faster than they can, so I am assuming it will be a few days."

It was with no amount of subtlety that Santana leapt out of her seat, food forgotten, and raced back to the queen's room, her heart thudding wildly. When she burst through the door it was obvious that she had startled Brittany, the other woman was watching Samuel in his crib, though from her vantage point Santana couldn't tell what he was doing. Quickly she dashed to Brittany's side, almost unable to speak the words she had come to say.

"He's coming back," she panted, only then realizing how out of breath she was.

"Artie?" Brittany asked calmly, though her tone of voice showed it wasn't really a question.

"Yes, Matthew said he could be here in days."

Though Santana considered herself an expert at the looks Brittany would give she had no way of reading the one she was giving now. It was serenity mixed with something else as she looked around the room.

"I supposed I should get Matthew to arrange for me to move back into my old room. I've been thinking of having yours redone for Samuel and you can continue to keep me company as I sleep. I have become irreversibly accustomed to having another sleep at my side," she said with a laugh, but Santana found this anything but amusing.

"How can you laugh at this?"

"The only other thing left to do is cry and I would rather not do that. Besides, I always knew he was likely to return."

"How was that likely? He ran off half cocked into a battle he didn't need to start, the conditions seemed right for him to die immediately."

The blonde tilted her head, "It's like what you said before, about life not being that simple. I would love to raise my son with you at my side, free of my husband for the rest of my days, but I also know to have depended on that would have been folly."

She understood that Brittany had always been ready for this, steeled against being reemerged under Archibald's increasingly tyrannical rule, but Santana wasn't. She could remember seeing Brittany standing before her fresh from a beating, bleeding badly, and she didn't know if her heart could handle seeing that again and again.

Her distress must have shown, because the blonde stepped forward and hugged her close, "Don't worry, think of us years from now, still in love and happy under the stars. We can make it there, because we will love each other no matter what."

Santana held her closer and whimpered miserably as tears fought their way from her eyes, she hated that once again Brittany had to be the strong one, that after all her talk of the future Brittany had to be the one to remind her why it was all worth it. Sobs shook her as she cried, feeling that nagging shame creep across the deeply carved scars Elisa had so carefully etched into her being to warn her of the foolishness of loving someone in a higher station, to remind her that at her core she would never be good enough. In all their time together Santana had never felt like she deserved Brittany less than she did at the moment.

Then the taller woman rubbed her back in a slow circular motion and she felt her tingling scars fade, the welts that had been left by the queen the previous night overpowered the sensation, but she refused to let her sexual prowess be a comfort.

However, the sensation combined with a soft melody Brittany began to hum calmed her enough to wipe away the last of her tears.

"You never told me you could sing as well," Santana said lightly though her voice still held evidence of her tears. She was completely ashamed of her breakdown and needed something to wash away what had just happened.

"I don't, not as well as you do, and I don't know many songs, but I heard that tune often when I was a child. It was before I learned how to speak the king's tongue, so I never knew the meaning of the words. I suppose I could ask, but I feel as if the meaning will not be as comforting as the melody itself."

She explained herself as she moved to the vanity to prepare for the other servants to enter and once again Santana found herself being saved by Brittany, even if it was from her own humiliation.

Santana knew she couldn't force herself to be something she wasn't, but if she could keep herself together one solid time she was sure she could be worthy of the woman before her. She could be the knight she had promised to be.

* * *

The news of Archibald's impending return resonated throughout the castle quickly. The kitchens worked overtime to prepare as best as they could for a return feast and the entire castle was scrubbed top to bottom, leaving Santana little choice but to sit outside with the prince when she was tasked with watching him.

At all hours servants bustled around, but none as much as Matthew.

Santana pitied him slightly since he oversaw the entire preparation while attending his duties to the crown as well. It had pleased Santana that the council was about as thrilled as she had been to hear of his return and even Matthew didn't seem ecstatic. In fact, the only thing anyone seemed to feel was tension. Everyone but Brittany. She continued her days as if nothing was going to really change; she made sure she and Samuel were moved out of the king's rooms posthaste. Matthew had been the main one to oppose the reassignment of Santana's room and had voiced his concern that the king would not approve at all. The queen had not cared in the least, but Matthew was able to talk her into allowing Samuel to stay in the room across the hall. It was indeed close, and though it was about the size of Brittany's he sold the idea by assuring that if she relented he would guarantee her Santana's continued stay in her room.

The two of them bartered that way for days and into the nights, nights Santana could no longer sleep through for fear of waking and finding Archibald's stony, grey eyes outside her door.

On one particular night she woke from a terrible dream involving Samuel growing to be even crueler than his father, making sure she was beaten daily while his mother looked on, crying. It shook her deeply and kept her from drifting off again. Carefully she slipped from Brittany's arms and looked in Samuel's bassinet to find the child sleeping soundly. Cold fear gripped her at the sight of him, and suddenly the room was too small.

Quietly she grabbed her coat and exited the room, moving quickly to the servants' hallway where she almost shouted in surprise to find Matthew, already standing at the window. He wasn't looking at her, however, he was looking out at the distant sea.

Clearly he heard her but didn't turn as he said, "Sleep eludes you as well?"

Pulling her fur tightly around herself, she approached the window, squinting against the stinging wind, "Yes."

"You are worried for the queen?" he asked, turning slightly towards her.

"Always."

He nodded, "As am I."

"Are you? Truly?" she challenged, "I always thought you more of a king's man as it were."

Matthew sighed heavily, making a thick, white cloud that vanished in the wind, "That does not mean I condone his actions. I wish, like everyone else, that he would leave her be."

"Is that so?" she said noncommittally as she moved to stand at his side and join him at looking out over the sea.

They were both silent for a time before Matthew chuckled, "Between you and I, our queen regent gave me my first kiss."

Santana was shocked by the news, so much so she almost stumbled back a bit, "She did?"

He nodded as he inspected his nails, "When we were children and I was teaching her to speak. I was teaching her to say flower, and I suppose she thought I was offering it to her, so she took it from my hands and kissed me on the cheek."

He smiled fondly at the memory and Santana fought back jealousy with every fiber of her being.

"I suppose nothing ever came of that?" she asked as coolly as she could manage.

"No, nothing other than me fawning after her in my dreams for a time, but that ended after a while."

"Was she the only girl to ever kiss you?" Santana asked, knowing it was rude to ask but needing to know that other women had occupied his mind since then. It didn't matter in any logical sense, but jealousy was never concerned with logic.

This time the other man laughed heartily, "Hardly, I was not always as concerned with my work as I am now."

Relieved, she rested against the stone sill again, "It's hard to think of you and Puck wooing the women of the kingdom."

"In my younger days I put him to shame," Matthew chuckled before his face grew serious again, "but in my current days I only shame myself."

Santana was surprised to hear him speak that way, but since she privately agreed she kept silent.

"I used to speak to Tina here," he said, gesturing out vaguely to the ledge Santana knew to be just below, "I would try to get her to see how much worse it could all be, I told her of all the things I had done in private for her and Michael, I did everything I could to make her feel, even slightly better, about her situation. But I knew it was only for me. _I_ needed to feel better, because you are correct in thinking that it would take a truly callous person to see what he does and continue to be his loyal aid. I do want him to be the man his father wants him to become, the man I thought he would be, but he's not, and there is nothing I can do for it."

"You can," Santana said softly.

He shook his head defiantly, "I can't, because I still live by memento mori, it is the only thing I know to do. It is how I lived my life and I am finding that even though it leads me down a dark path I cannot escape. I always thought that I could at any point stop and change course, but now I am finding that knowing you should be brave and actually being so are vastly different."

Santana shuffled her feet and said nothing, because she understood him better than she was willing to admit, "There will come a time when you have no choice but to be brave or risk losing your soul to cowardice. When that time comes all you can do is hope you are strong enough," she said, as much to herself as Matthew.

"That may be so, but your philosophy of memento vitae is still a little too much for me," he said, his lips tugging at the corners as they attempted a smile, "I'm afraid, for now I must stand in the shadows, doing all that I can while keeping death in mind."

With that he turned back to the stars and Santana watched them as well. The heavenly lights were shining brightly in the clear sky and it seemed as if some were flickering, making her wonder if they, like the candles that lined the halls, were about to go out.

"Have you ever seen a star go out?" she asked.

"No, it is not something that can be seen properly without viewing instruments, but it's supposed to be one of the most beautiful sights in the heavens."

Thinking on that, Santana sighed another white cloud into the air, "And the saddest, I would imagine."

"I never," he began, but seemed to choke on his own words, "As much as I have thought on life and death I never regretted my life so much until I met you."

A frown creased her brow, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I think I'm well overdue on feeling guilt."

Pressing her shoulder into his, she leaned against him, "I suggest not worrying over the past. It's the future that needs your attention."

She could feel him lean back against her as he said, "I hope I do not disappoint."

* * *

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Santana woke to a barrage of banging at the queen's bedroom door. The sound startled her out of bed and woke Samuel who immediately began to cry, Brittany was the last to open her eyes blearily yet was the first to stand and answer the knock.

Santana was shocked and a little irritated to see Shelby standing at the door flanked by the queen's servants, "The king has returned, you are needed in the main foyer."

Without the slightest bit of subtlety Santana went to the prince and picked him up before bringing him to the large dresser that was full of the wrappings that kept him from using the world as his outhouse and the fur lined cloth he used as clothes.

She made sure he was properly dressed before returning him to Brittany and then tucking away to change herself in a far corner of the room. The modesty was just for show, however, since she had bathed with most of the women present at some point and done much more with the queen.

Shelby may have been the only one to never see her out of her clothes, but that fact did not change that day since she kept her eyes on Samuel the entire time.

When he changed hands and they left to greet the king in the main hall it was the same, even with all the lords and ladies dressed up in their grandest finery, most carrying gifts for the returning ruler, Shelby's eyes stayed firmly on the child Brittany held. Choosing to ignore her Santana looked over the men and women who stood around and found one group that she assumed, given their overdone winter wear, were from the South and she wondered how that would go over.

Moments later a tumult of sound reached the doors and she had to presume Archibald had arrived, a thought confirmed when he burst through the doors like a man leading a parade, and in a sense he was.

It was a little jarring to see him so suddenly, especially since he had grown a rather unflattering beard in his time away. He walked in, heavily armored, head held high, a broad smile on his face… at least she thought he was smiling, the wiry hair hid his expression.

In one hand he held his sword as if ready for a fight and in the other he held the banner of the West, which was a plain, white sheet with a strip of black on the end, and an ornate, black letter in the center that she could not read, but had always reminded her of a bird.

The commotion that followed him inside was drowned out by the soldiers that followed him and the cheers of the nobles within, though Santana did note no one seemed quite as pleased with Archibald as Archibald himself.

Having paraded his trophy for all to see, he passed it casually back to Karofsky who Santana was seeing for the first time, but only because the man looked far leaner than he ever had before. His full face was now far more gaunt and his beady eyes seemed more haunted than mean, he took the flag and held it like it was nothing more than a stick with a worthless cloth on the end, not even bothering to hold it up high.

The king took his time in soaking up the waning cheers before sheathing his sword and approaching his queen. Brittany held Samuel close as he watched the commotion through curious eyes, and when his eyes met his father's he did not smile as the man did, though it could have been because he couldn't see it.

With a boisterous laugh Archibald scooped Samuel from his mother and held him high as if to get a good look at him, nodding his approval as if the boy were a pot to be inspected before purchase. It only took a few moments of this scrutiny before the prince came to the conclusion that he didn't much care for the man who held him and began to cry with every scrap of strength his lungs could muster.

It was then, in that moment that Santana realized how much she cared for the boy, because she wanted nothing more than to snatch him away from the man that was obviously scaring him. His cries hurt her heart as did the sight of his small arms reaching out to her, Brittany, and Shelby in turn to come and get him. But all three of them held their ground with equal difficulty, though Shelby had the hardest time hiding her distress.

Archibald chuckled as he pressed the child to him, bouncing and rocking him clumsily against his armored chest. The action made Samuel muster up the strength to cry even louder and with that his father tired of him. The king rolled his eyes in exasperation before shoving the boy into Santana's arms so suddenly she worried she might drop him.

The moment Samuel was secure his tears stopped and he held her hand tightly as if afraid letting go would mean to be passed to the frightening man again.

Seeing him quiet so suddenly, Archibald frowned, "Well, he's about as simple as you are, but that can be fixed," he said easily to Brittany as he approached.

She didn't acknowledge his words, instead she curtseyed and prepared to move aside so he could greet Matthew who stood behind her. Instead, he pulled her to him, kissing her deeply in a way that was clearly surprising.

In the surge of rage Santana felt at the sight the only other emotion that came through was an acute sadness, because there was nothing she could do about it.

After he had kissed his wife he turned to the room full of nobles and his weary looking soldiers, "Men, go and take a well-earned rest; to my lords and ladies, do not worry yourselves I will be with you to hear your requests. However, the road has been long, so I am sure you will not begrudge me a day to rest and become acquainted with my son and reacquainted with my wife."

His last words were spoken so it was clear to all his subjects that he had no intention of talking with her.

Santana was sure she could taste bile, but the taste was overpowered by blood and she realized she had been fiercely biting her cheek. She looked to Brittany who had somehow managed to keep her face in the tight, polite, neutrality she'd always had around the king, though when their eyes met she could see the apology in them, and the plea for her to stay calm.

A message that seemed to be entirely necessary, because even Shelby had torn her eyes away from Samuel to take note of the ferocious look she was giving.

Straightening her face, Santana took the prince from the hall and went directly to his room. She still hadn't eaten her morning meal and her duty to attend the queen did not cease because she was with her husband, but she couldn't possibly sit around outside the king's room to wait for him to finish becoming 'reacquainted' with her. She was in no way ready for that and suspected she might never be, but now it was too sudden and incredibly unbearable. So she hid in the child's dark, disused room to hide from her other duties, to hide from Brittany's return, however long it would be.

Sitting quietly in a darkened room lit by one candle, turned out to be a terrible idea for one attempting to find peace from their own thoughts. She sat and brooded for what seemed like days until Samuel began to cry, she checked his underclothes for wetness but he was dry, then she worried he might be hungry but usually when that was the case he would attempt to latch on to the nearest breast. This time he merely kicked his feet and wailed, and it was then that Santana realized it was her, she had been crying and her mood had affected him.

Marveling at how he could even tell in the darkness they were in, she wiped her eyes swiftly and threw on a fake smile as she stood to light all of the candles in the dark room. His tears once again subsided as the room and Santana's mood lit up and soon he gave her a smile that made her false one become a bit more real.

She knelt by the chest of toys that was kept in a corner and picked up his favorite, the small, fluffy lamb whose stuffing was wearing thin, but was still the most beloved of all. He took it and, as with all things he loved, shoved it straight into his mouth. Returning to the large cot at the far end of the room, she lay down keeping him securely at her side. Watching him, time seemed to flow differently than when wallowing in sorrow, it was easier to forget all the thoughts buzzing like angry insects and enjoy the sight of a baby alternately playing with and eating a stuffed animal.

Then her relative peace was broken by a gentle knock at the door. Looking up, Santana called out for whoever was there to enter while sitting up since she expected to have to explain to Shelby why she wasn't needed, but to her surprise it was Puck who slipped in.

"You have to know you aren't allowed to be here," she said, almost amazed at his audacity.

"You must know I don't care a lick for others tellin' me where I can't go," he said with a half grin.

Conceding that point, she raised her eyebrows, "Well? What is so important that you would risk Azimio tanning you to tell me?"

"Nothin' really. I saw what happened in th' main hall. Musta been rough for ya."

Her face hardened at the mention, "No more or less than usual."

"If you say so," he said with a shrug, "Anyway, here," and with that he produced a bowl of a fine looking stew from behind his back. When he saw the question in her eyes he chuckled, "If I'm gonna risk flayin' fer bringin' you food may as well be th' good stuff." Thankful, she reached out and took the bowl, putting it to her lips and drinking it, meat and all, "I broughta spoon…" he added weakly as she lowered the bowl for air.

"No need," she said before doing it again, only realizing how hungry she was as the warm stew hit her stomach.

Puck waited for her to finish by taking Samuel's lamb and dancing it along his legs and head, the child scrambled to try and catch it, laughing loudly every time he missed and it darted somewhere else. Of course when Puck finally allowed him to catch it, the toy returned to his mouth.

Once the bowl was empty she handed it back to him, "Thank you."

"Welcome," he said with an almost embarrassed shrug.

And suddenly an important question occurred to her, "What's happened to Sunshine?"

"Nuthin' much, I think Matthew's tryina find her a replacement, but it's harder now that all th' servants think the spots cursed cause of Tina dissapearin' an' the last one diein'."

Shocked, she sat up straighter, "Who died?"

"I didn't know her, she was picked by th' king to travel with him on th' road an' be his bedmate. Think it was Matthew who told me she burned to death in th' raid on that castle up north."

"He burned her to death?" she asked, knowing that given who they were speaking of she shouldn't be shocked.

"Not on purpose."

"I suppose that explains why he's so happy to see his wife suddenly," she growled.

"That'd be my bet," he said as he gave Samuel a parting pat on the head with his lamb and stood to leave.

"Puck, what would you do?" she asked suddenly, "If you were me?"

He stopped and frowned, "If I was you and Brittany was Quinn?" she nodded and his frown deepened, "Best not go down that path, love, not if you wanna be alive at the end."

With that he left, and Santana sat and contemplated his words carefully.

* * *

Brittany returned to Santana's care at the evening meal when she finally decided to come out of hiding. She returned Samuel to his mother and endured an infuriating rant from the king about how foolish Brittany was for not using her servants to care for the boy.

However, when they were alone they said nothing more to each other, the bath and the rest of the night passed in silence. Not an uncomfortable one, a warm, comforting silence that allowed them to talk all night without saying a word. In the dark Santana held Brittany firmly, letting her know she would not let go, ever, and Brittany clung back, showing how much she needed that affirmation.

By the morning things were back to their usual setting, Brittany waking happily, eager to kiss Santana and hold Samuel. The queen was dressed and at her morning meal as always with no issue. For her part, Santana was a little excited for a day without council, _with_ a completely mobile Brittany, but those hopes were dashed when Santana was informed that they did have to attend one last meeting.

Suppressing an audible sigh, Santana made the familiar trek to the large, guarded doors and prepared to wait outside, but Brittany merely handed Samuel to her and beckoned her to follow. Archibald seemed to not have noticed until he was already inside, but when his cold eyes found Santana they narrowed dangerously.

He was not given a chance to speak out on the issue, though, almost immediately the wizened, old men called for order and the processions began.

"My lords, I return victorious, as I said I would, and am ready to receive your recognition."

Though she sort of hated all of the men on the council, she hated the man in the front center the least, in her head she had taken to calling him Jowls due to the access skin that wobbled distractingly from his cheeks. He seemed to give Archibald the most trouble on all occasions. This day Jowls looked at him like he were a boy asking for a man's sword.

"Are you sure that is something you would ask of us?"

The king blinked slowly in confusion, "To have my station back? Yes, it is."

"Really? Because in your absence your queen has managed to do all the things you failed to do time and time again, even with your ridiculous raid as a chain around her ankle."

"I-" he spluttered and turned, glaring hotly at Brittany who only looked blankly back at him, "It wasn't her doing! I instructed Matthew to help her!"

"Yes, and as I recall Matthew has been your aid since you were both babes in rags yet you still did not manage what she did. Either that slave is a fool and you should not have listened to him all these years or he is quite smart and you would do better to heed his advice. Whatever the case, I think the castle in more capable hands with the queen regent."

Santana had never actually seen Archibald as enraged as he was at that moment, "You mean to deny me my crown?"

The old man shrugged, "No, I mean to advise you to take some time under her tutelage and learn something."

The words hung heavy in the air and Santana felt her pulse quicken after her heart skipped a beat, a feeling of fear gripped her as she watched Archibald redden. It did give her pleasure to see him taken down in front of the council, but she did not like how the focus was being put on Brittany's superiority. Because it would mean he would focus on her to take his anger out on.

Jowls seemed to know that as well, "And don't go off slapping her around like some common fisherman, you are a king and she is your queen. More importantly, she is a queen who saved your kingdom from destruction all while cultivating alliances you were too foolish to instigate."

The king seemed to revive at the statement, "I have never-"

"Beaten your wife? I am old, Archibald, not blind, and even if I was one could hear her limping from the lashings you gave her. It is something we have overlooked as it is not our place to deal in your marital affairs, but we are doing so now. Lay a single hand on her again and the council will have no choice but to insist that the king sovereign return home from his campaign."

This time the angry man blanched, all his color drained as he heard the mention of his father having to return, "There is no need to call him back."

"Of course not, Brittany seems to be in good health."

Instantly Santana forgave the council for all they had put the queen through, this was a better reward than all the praise in the world.

"I will not harm her, I have no reason to," he said slowly as if the words hurt to say, "but I must insist that I be recognized as the crowned ruler once again."

Jowls gave what could have been perceived as a shrug and said, "Then it is so."

He said it as more of a disappointed sigh than anything and even the other council members seemed less than thrilled about it.

"With that settled, you! Out!"

It took a heartbeat for Santana to realize that the king was addressing her, it seemed that in his inability to tear into Brittany she was the nearest living target and as such he seemed intent that she suffer. Santana supposed it should have bothered her more, but if ever she were willing to take a beating it would be to keep Brittany safe from harm. However, as she turned to leave she felt a gentle touch from behind and was surprised to see the queen had a hold of her.

"My lords, may she stay? She helps me tend to Prince Samuel, and since I need to discuss the happenings of the last few months, it would be a great help."

Nodding Jowls gave his grudging approval, apparently over telling her how it was 'highly unusual'.

"And though Matthew is involved in all my matters of council you give me grief for having him here every moment you can!" Archibald snapped, as if unable to believe the preferential treatment.

At the back Santana saw Lord Jacob perk up, "Yes, sire, because as a king you are supposed to be able to handle these things without a servant to hold your hand. The queen did your job and raised your son with half the help, we will allow her to keep her servant nearby."

"And do not think taking your petty anger out on her servant or the prince will go unnoticed," Jowls growled at him upon seeing the venom Archibald was sending Santana's way. "Now sit down and have some dignity about yourself."

It was with smug satisfaction that Santana watched the once-again king sit in his seat while his wife sat demurely at his side in the provided chair. The feeling that rose within her she assumed was what one must feel when narrowly escaping a wild beast by slipping through a small crack.

Though she knew, as all prey did, that predators will always try to find a way to reach them and rip them apart.

* * *

A/N: This part was long. The next chapter will be the same, but most likely longer. I have a reason for this I will tell y'all about later ..

Anyway if you don't hear from me in the usual time frame know there is a super long chapter on the way so don't fret. (You can also check my tumblr for updates)

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	23. Chapter 23

The good thing about the king's return was the renewal of the queen's free period while he attended court, something Santana could appreciate even with Samuel present. The downside was that he still felt the need to call on his wife during the night from time to time, even though Santana was told he had more than a few women willing to share his bed. Matthew said it was because he hoped to have more than one son, but wasn't as desperate as he had been. Santana was able to get over his visits, the idea of watching Brittany struggle through another birth was nerve wracking, but she vowed should that happen she would stay at her side.

Though as the season grew warmer it didn't happen and soon Archibald was back to his old ways of never venturing to his queen's section of the castle. Santana appreciated that greatly but couldn't understand it for the life of her, especially since she knew if Brittany was hers to have when she pleased the idea of other women would be incredibly absurd.

Aside from the king's waning interest, the weather, and the prince's size, little else changed.

And that, oddly, was a pretty severe problem.

Shelby was never far since she had found a place as the king's personal servant and from time to time Santana did see her and Azimio in intense conversation, though she never bothered to guess what it was about. Archibald had somehow managed to maintain his truce with the South after imposing a set of rather strict laws meant to suppress another uprising. This resulted in Lord Schuester resigning his position as castellan and taking up arms with those in the South still incensed by the crown's past misdeeds and those that were more upset about his new laws. The title was given to Lord Motta instead, and Lord Schuester left the lands to find others to join his band since the North and West remained hostile territory.

Most importantly the council knew this.

They most of all had not changed, meaning that the king left every council meeting looking furious. His grey eyes transmitted his desire to take his anger out on Brittany, but instead he would stomp around with Matthew, Shelby and Karofsky at his heels, looking sulky.

To make matters worse, for Archibald anyway, it turned out the rest of the kingdom shared in the council's view, so even in court, more often than not, it was Brittany who was addressed. When the king would make an angry comment about it even the commoners would look at him with distaste and readdress their plea to him. It always meant they didn't get whatever it was they requested, but Santana felt that those who came knew that already and merely used the tale to tell others of his ineptitude.

However, with Archibald's ever waning popularity and Shelby and Azimio's camaraderie, Santana remained calm. Instead of worrying over schemes and trying to figure out how the king planned to move she merely enjoyed the time she had with the queen and the prince in the garden.

The snow had melted away, but the leaves and flowers had yet to return, the season of rebirth was upon them and soon there would be blossoming plants all around. Brittany could hardly wait and her excitement made Santana eager as well, if only because she wanted to see that special smile that came over the other woman when she was surrounded by nature.

Until then Santana contentedly stood back and watched Brittany show her son around the barren area, pointing out where everything would be once the last of the cold slipped away.

"Do you think he understands?" Santana asked the queen softly as she brought the boy to the pond's edge.

Brittany smiled brightly at her, "I don't think he understands my exact words, but I think he knows my meaning."

She chuckled, "How can he?"

"I don't know, I suppose the same way I did when I first came here. Matthew talked all the time, but I didn't understand a word he said. At the same time I understood that he was telling me important things and that I should listen even if I didn't comprehend. I got his meanings more and more as time went on, as I am sure Samuel will."

"You misinterpreted his flower," she grumbled in fake irritation.

Partially fake.

"What flower?" the blonde asked, her brow knitting in confusion.

"The one he tried to name for you, and you thought it was a gift and kissed him for it."

Her confused expression did not lift, "That must have been some time ago. Did Matthew tell you that?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then it is probably true, though I don't remember it."

For some insane reason that made her feel better.

With a sigh she sat next to the queen, "It's probably for the best."

"Don't tell me that made you jealous," Brittany snorted, though her expression was hardly light.

"No," and even Santana didn't believe her own answer.

"Well, madam, you hardly have a leg to stand on since Matthew informed me that you had a rather long fling with the blacksmith's apprentice."

If she had been drinking something at the time, now would have been the moment she spat it all out and choked. Lacking that, she merely sat with her mouth hanging open and blood rushing to her face making her feel like someone had lit it ablaze.

"I didn't- I mean, I did, but it wasn't like you'd think… Well, it was, but-"

"Glad you clarified that for me."

"It was before we were…"

"I know, it was before we were together."

"And it meant nothing."

"I assumed as much," she said lightly, letting Samuel play with her hands.

"Then why do you seem upset?" Santana asked lightly.

"I'm not, but whenever I think of you with someone else it makes me grumpy," Brittany pouted, as if the truth of it irritated even her.

"There was never a reason for you to be jealous of him," she said softly, "Besides, I was only using him to try and run from what I felt for you."

The admission was one she had never planned to make in her lifetime, but it was something she felt her lover needed to hear.

This time the queen's face held light amusement, "How exactly was he supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, I merely thought that if I was with him often enough I would stop feeling the way I did about you."

"Did you succeed for any portion of time?" she asked nonchalantly, though Santana knew her well enough to know she was more than a little interested in the answer.

"There were moments when I thought I had. Then I would see you again and realize how wrong I was."

Brittany seemed rather sated by the answer and held Samuel a little higher as he reached out for the still frozen water in the pond.

"His name is Noah, right? Though I am aware he prefers Puck."

Santana was a little surprised Brittany knew his real name, but then again they had both grown up in the castle, so it honestly wasn't that unusual.

"Yes."

Her eyes brightened with recognition, "I haven't seen him as much since I married Artie, but he was always kind to me whenever we saw each other as children."

"He is to me as well, even when I treated him as I did."

"After Matthew told me what was once between you I couldn't be truly angry at him, especially since he was the one who led me to you when Azimio had stolen you away. That and… I know that I hardly have room to be jealous of you and someone else," she said sadly, her eyes darkening before she looked out over the ice.

"It's different," Santana said quickly, "when it's someone you choose. I'm not envious of what you and the king have, because there is nothing to be envious of. I do wish I could be in his position, to be able to have you openly and have no one question us, but that has nothing to do with how I feel about the two of you."

Brittany smiled without turning from the pond, "I wish you could have me openly as well."

Santana considered expanding on the fantasies she'd had concerning that but instead voiced the question that had been bouncing around in her mind, "How did the issue of Puck and I even come up?"

"Matthew asked me if I had seen you with any other servants; when he asked he managed to let it slip that he knew you were with someone and that he was surprised it wasn't Puck because of you two… having been so intimate."

"Why didn't you ask me about it, then?"

"I knew the person he suspected of having your affections was me and that I had nothing to be threatened by."

"But it still made you jealous," Santana said, eyebrow raised.

"Incredibly so," she admitted with a sigh, "which is why I said nothing."

"Sometimes I don't understand you at all," the smaller woman laughed, and even the queen smiled at that.

"Well, it makes sense to me," she huffed, though there was a playful glint in her eyes.

In that moment Santana desperately wanted to kiss her but was aware of their surroundings, so instead she gave her lover a tender smile as she looked into the eyes she wanted to never stop seeing. And as it turned out that was an incredibly wise decision, in the blink of an eye there was a presence behind them, one only announced by the telltale crunch of the sparse remaining patches of snow.

Turning, Santana looked up into the sunken, haunted eyes of Shelby and she felt her heart twist, but she didn't know why. Maybe it was guilt, or just the after effects of having almost being caught doing something inappropriate, either way the feeling made her scramble to her feet.

Brittany, less concerned with her arrival, stood and looked the woman over as if she could find some visual reason for the woman to be there.

"Yes?" the queen asked coolly.

"The king requests that you join him at the stables."

Santana and Brittany shot each other questioning glances, "The stables?" the queen asked.

"Yes, m'lady, the prince is to come, too," she said, and with that she turned to leave.

Curious as to what this was even about, the two of them left the garden and met with the king at the stables, but to their surprise it was not a simple affair. A royal carriage, one that was vastly different than the one she had ridden in with Brittany back before Samuel was born, was waiting there. It was larger, far more opulent, and surrounded by several armored guards on equally armored horses. Karofsky was at the front, adorned with the best and brightest armor that clearly marked him as the leader. When the king spotted them he went immediately to Brittany's side while Santana slipped to Matthew's.

"What is all this about?"

"The guards or the procession as a whole?"

"Both."

"The king is not the most popular man at the moment, so he seeks to reconnect with his subjects by riding amongst them. However, as I said, he is not exactly popular at the moment, thus the guards."

Santana frowned at the explanation, it hardly seemed that, with all that had happened, the citizens outside the castle walls would be swayed by the sight of their ruler prancing around with his guards. Then again this was the man who felt he could win his queen's heart by taking her out into the woods before returning home to leave the pregnant woman alone for the winter season to clean the mess he had made all so he could go create another.

Actually, now that she thought about it the situation made a great deal of sense.

So instead of questioning it she waited patiently to be told where to sit and planted herself opposite the king and queen when Matthew signaled her to sit there. She was not unaware of the envious look Shelby gave her when she and Matthew went to the back to be kept out of sight. This particular carriage was clearly meant to display the royals since the servant's section was completely sealed save for a small hole which she was sure was meant to let in air.

Karofsky barked orders and soon they were on their way from the castle to the streets beyond, the couple before her sat silently, Archibald watching the passing scenery and Brittany looking over at her son. Admittedly that wasn't all she was looking at, but Santana wasn't going to draw attention to the fact. Instead she held Samuel so he too could look out the window, though the action hardly pleased him as it put him in the eye line of his father and that always made him gear up to cry.

Upon hearing him whimper the king scowled as he focused his attentions back out to the passing road, "I suppose that's my fault for leaving him with you so long," he grumbled.

"Perhaps it is your beard. It is rather… intimidating," Brittany said kindly.

Archibald stroked his hideous chin hair thoughtfully, "I suppose, it is rather daunting."

Santana was half tempted to laugh since she had apparently been the only one to detect how insincere the queen's statement was

The king's thoughtful demeanor morphed into one of forced joy as the first of his subjects came into view. He waved jovially at them and Brittany leaned towards the opposite window and did the same. Something that quite quickly infuriated him and it wasn't hard to see why.

As the carriage passed crowds did indeed form and cheer. On the side the queen was on. They waved, spoke words of adulation, gave shouted pleas for the battles to end and thanked her for their winter furs. Even Samuel was cheered for and wished good will. Archibald on the other hand seemed to be looking out into another world full of nothing but scowling faces and the occasional, partially hidden, rude gesture. Santana suspected they were people who had lost a loved one in all the fighting on one side or the other since all the territories had been one united land before, with families spreading out to the far corners of the kingdom, never suspecting they may have to fight each other.

They had hardly made it out of the inner circle of the city before the king slouched back, irritation etched on his face as he glared at his wife.

Santana knew behind those stony grey eyes were thoughts of such extreme cruelty and hate that it would make her sick to know them. Samuel seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he began to cry loudly. She knew singing would calm him, but it was something that was deeply personal and meaningful between Brittany, Samuel and herself and she was not willing to let Archibald hear her song. As a result his cries turned to full on wails that bounced in the small space making everyone wince.

Brittany seemed to know the reason for her inaction and reached out for the screaming child, Santana easily handed him over, and as his mother hummed a soft tune his cries died down. She smiled at him and he smiled back as he always did, a small laugh coming from him when she tickled him lightly. The scene made the smaller woman smile and when the queen's eyes met hers they shared a quiet moment of peace that excluded the king entirely. But of course that didn't last.

"You see, this is what I wish the people could see," Archibald spat, "Here you are, a supposedly intelligent leader yet you don't let servants care for the prince, and when you do it's _your_ servant and she can't even calm the boy when he cries. It's a wonder I didn't come home to find the place in flames."

"She handles him quite well," Brittany said simply, as if she could not overlook the insult passed to Santana.

"She is your handmaid, she shouldn't handle him at all!" he snapped, "And neither should you! You are a queen for heaven's sake! What are you, too good for the traditions of our land? Did your people enjoy doing menial tasks when they had the means and the right to have others to do it for them?!"

"Raising a king is not a menial task."

Archibald looked like he would have smacked her clean out of the carriage had it been his right, instead he turned back to the window that still showed him scowling faces.

More so now that his shouting had made it out of the window.

Santana watched his jaw jump as he ground his teeth and she could practically feel the hate roll off him in waves. The king's continued frustration was still satisfying to see, but she knew it couldn't go on forever, no delusion could help her picture Archibald clawing helplessly at them forever.

* * *

It took eight days for Santana to find out how right she had been.

On the morning of that day she woke in Brittany's arms and had kissed her lovingly before going to her morning meal.

The first sign that something was wrong would have been Matthew's absence. But since it wasn't unusual to find him missing from a meal she thought nothing of it.

After eating, she returned to Brittany and, with the aid of other servants, had her and the prince ready to greet the king.

At that time she became aware was wrong, because the now beardless king was not with his normal entourage. He was with Matthew, Shelby and Azimio. Matthew looked about as alarmed as she felt, Azimio seemed smug, and Shelby, as always, kept her eyes on Samuel.

Not understanding the meaning behind the new arrangement she merely followed her queen, Samuel secure in her arms, until they reached the royal dining hall and Samuel was passed to his mother. The meal went by with no further changes and when it was over Santana was more than a little pleased to escape Azimio's lingering gaze, however, that was not what the king had in mind.

"My lady," he called softly as Brittany stood to leave, and she turned to him inquisitively. "Your presence is requested in court today."

Santana did not like the way he said it, like he knew something that would make them both flee if they did as well. The queen seemed to sense it as well but nodded her compliance anyway and everyone exited the dining hall.

The walk to the council room had never felt so long and ominous as it did at that moment, especially with Azimio walling right behind their group the entire time.

When they finally entered the room it became quite evident that the council members had not expected the crowd they had received. Once the surprised chatter died down Jowls shuffled in his seat to get a good look at the new arrivals.

"What is the meaning of this?" the old man asked with a long suffering sigh.

"Of what?" the king asked innocently.

"Archibald, do not play us for idiots! We have important matters to discuss, so please explain why you have brought so many with you when only you are needed."

"Well, my lords, Matthew is always with me, and Azimio is my new personal guard," he said calmly as he walked around the two men in question.

Santana looked at Matthew to try and get a hint as to what it was about, but the man seemed as lost as the councilmen.

Moving to Shelby's side the king went on, "This wench is to watch over the prince since my queen's servant will no longer be able to."

Brittany's eyes sharpened at those words and she looked like she might speak out but remained silent.

"And why do you feel the need to inform us of this?" Jowls asked slowly, looking like he was at the end of his patience.

"Because, gentlemen, my lovely wife has decided to commit treason and as such I fully intend for the council to have her thrown in the dungeon immediately with her wretched servant. I have made sure to have someone nearby to care for my son in the absence of his mother or his surrogate. This woman seems to prefer caring for him than tending to me and honestly with this face I prefer it that way as well, so I have given the wench her desired post."

It wasn't only Jowls who seemed completely irate with his rambling. "What are you blathering on about?" a man at the far right asked, his anger having reached its limit.

"I am speaking of adultery!" the king shouted back, "My queen has been carrying on an illicit affair with her lady in waiting!"

Santana felt her heart skip several beats before it suddenly started beating far too fast.

The room was silent for a long time before anyone made a sound, and when someone did it was a heavy yawn.

"And do you have any proof?" Jowls asked, looking bored.

Archibald seemed taken aback by the disinterest the council was showing but quickly pulled himself together as he shoved Shelby forward.

"This woman saw them together in the gardens," he announced.

Jowls looked over at her, "Is this true?"

"I did, m'lord, they were kissing each other on the mouth, by the pond, in the gardens."

Santana's face twisted in confusion, because she hadn't touched Brittany in any inappropriate way in the gardens since Azimio started lurking around. Then she wondered if it had been him, if Azimio had seen something he ought not have and relayed the message to Shelby. However, that made less than no sense since he could have well told the king himself…

A man at the far back shrugged slightly, "My wife kisses our dog more in one day than she has ever kissed me in my life, should I accuse her of bestiality?" he chuckled.

Shelby looked as worried as the king over their disbelief, "I also saw them naked together in bed doing things only reserved for a man and his wife."

"With what?" Lord Jacob snorted, "Are you also suggesting the young lady grew a cock?"

"N-no, I-" she stuttered, her story faltering.

"My lords, it hardly matters how it happened," Archibald interrupted, "the point is that it did, and she wasn't the only one who witnessed it. Azimio saw them naked atop each other in the stables."

Azimio nodded his thick head in agreement with the statement but made no move to give an actual testimony.

Santana's confusion tripled, because never in all their trysts had she and Brittany ever so much as kissed in the stables.

Then it clicked.

Then the sordid random tales made sense.

They were fabricated, every one was false. It was suddenly violently plain what was happening: Shelby wanted to care for Samuel, Azimio needed something to endear him to the king, and the king needed something that could knock the queen from her secure position. Everyone got what they wanted in the deal, which meant that she and Brittany were in the worst possible danger.

They had conspired to make up a story that just so happened to be true.

When she looked to Brittany and saw her expression was completely blank she knew that the queen had worked this out as well. And given how calm she seemed Santana also knew that she had expected this outcome.

Jowls looked over the people before him and sighed again, "I cannot condemn the queen based on the vague story of those who clearly serve you."

Archibald's face went hard and his grey eyes held a tempest, "What you cannot do is ignore the testimony of two witnesses of my wife's infidelity!"

"Sire," Lord Jacob ventured, "We can if what you are requesting is your wife's death or incarceration. If we were inclined to execute her, which we are not by the way, the impact of such actions could quite negatively sway the solid truce your father has built with the natives overseas."

"My wife defiles our wedding bed and you are willing to let it slide because you fear what her worthless father might think? The man is king of nothing! And if it worries you so the son you constantly insisted I have means that there is no breach of trusts, his family line is secure."

"Unless the queen wishes to confess to her crime I am afraid I cannot allow you to harm her," Jowls said.

"And am I just to allow her to continue flaunting her body to every slave that passes through these ports?! She should be punished!"

"And what of your infidelity?" Lord Jacob asked coolly.

"There is no proof of any such thing," he grumbled.

At those words her eyes found Matthew's again and she saw a look she knew all too well. Of course he could attest to the king's many affairs and probably had a numbered list of every woman he had taken out of wedlock, but he was afraid of what it would mean and it was written all over his face. She knew that she was seeing how she must have looked to Tina when she found her with the king in the stables, the shame and pain of watching someone be hurt while having the power to stop it, if even for a moment. Knowing that feeling, she couldn't even be upset when he looked away from her without saying a word.

Santana watched the back and forth between the king and the council with bated breath, feeling a wonderful lightness in her chest at the fact that they were unwilling to put any credence in the king's claims. Cautiously she looked to see if Brittany's face had lightened at all, but unfortunately her lover's expression was graver than ever, and she understood why merely seconds before it happened.

The king took a bold step forward and pointed in her direction, "If you will not allow me the proper retaliation that I am owed then you must at the least give me her servant. This cannot stand! It is treason and I have brought forth witnesses of the act! By your own law there must be repercussions and I will not allow-"

"Yes, yes, we hear you," Jowls interrupted before turning to Brittany, "My lady, I am sorry but he is correct. With these accusations we cannot leave him without recourse, but I can assure you I have many servants in my employ and would be more than happy to replace this one."

Brittany didn't respond, she merely looked from Artie to Jowls with a calm expression. Santana felt chills run up and down her spine as she realized she was being sentenced to death for a crime no one actually believed she had committed.

A large hand clamped down on her shoulder and she saw that Azimio had manage to slip up behind her, he held her in place as if there was somewhere she could run if she wanted to, but she didn't want to. There was nowhere she wanted to go if Brittany wasn't there.

Shelby took the opportunity to take Samuel from her and the child looked back at her with his wide eyes as if he couldn't possibly understand why he was being let go. Brittany saw the exchange and for the first time Santana saw a deep sadness cross her features, she knew this was hard for the other woman to see, but she wanted to convey that it was alright. That she had never honestly expected to die a natural death, that she was at peace with it all.

The queen took a deep breath and turned to address the council, "My lords, I thank you for your confidence in me, and please believe me when I say your faith in my integrity makes me so very happy, however, it is misplaced. Because it is as they say. I have been carrying on an illicit affair with my lady in waiting, for quite some time in fact."

The room fell deathly silent, even Azimio, Shelby and Archibald looked stunned by her confession.

But Santana wasn't, she once again saw what was happening and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn't stop Brittany from condemning herself to the same fate, because the queen couldn't keep the council from killing her lover. The thought broke Santana's heart in so many ways, because she knew how badly she wanted to live and take care of Samuel, to make sure the baby's kind heart wasn't corrupted by his father. Because she was the one who had sold Brittany the story of them reaching a ripe, old age, but only now was she seeing what she was sure the queen had seen all along; that there could never be a happy end to their tale.

"H-highness, are you aware of what you are saying?" Jowls asked, looking stunned.

"Yes, I am admitting to acts of sex with a woman outside my husband's knowledge."

"Bu- you- why?" he finally asked.

"Why confess? Or are you asking why I did it? I will tell you that I confessed to clear my conscious as you had all put so much stock in my honor, and I did it at all because my husband is rather lacking in that area. Santana is far better at pleasing a woman."

At this Archibald's face went brick red and a murderous look came over his face, Jowls gaped at her, his face a mask of pure shock and Lord Jacob looked exponentially more interested in the conversation.

"And you aren't confessing this under some sort of duress?" Jowls asked.

He was offering her a way out, because he knew that if she stuck with her story it would mean she would be subject to the king's wrath, but Santana already understood that she was not going to back down.

Knowing all that, she realized that everything that was happening was irrelevant. No matter what was said from that moment on, her fate was sealed, there was no way out. Azimio and Shelby had won and Brittany was in the process of handing the king his victory. Nothing that was happening mattered, because regardless she was going to die.

The notion didn't scare her like it always had in the past, she could see everything with the clarity of someone who had nothing to lose.

So when Brittany made another jab at Archibald's manhood, one Santana hadn't heard but which must have been good, because it made even Jowls blanch, she could easily see the anger overflow in the king's eyes. She knew, council or not, he was going to strike his wife as hard as he could, and as a woman condemned she had no trouble knowing what she was going to do about it.

In the heated exchange Azimio's grip had loosened making it an easy task to slip away from him, and in the process she managed to yank his dirk out of its sheath. The knife was heavier than she had anticipated, but it didn't slow her down enough to be caught by the angry guard's desperate grasp. And Archibald's single-minded determination to advance on Brittany meant that he didn't see her dashing for him until the blade had already slipped into his side.

The room exploded into sound as the king screamed, the council leapt to their feet and Azimio roared after her. That told her she had less than a heartbeat to do what she would, the blade had come out of his side at an angle and she could tell that it was too shallow to kill him on its own, so she pulled the knife out and swung again for his neck, but before the blade could reach his throat the large guard hauled her off her feet and threw her bodily across the room.

He threw her as easily as he would a rag doll and she hit the wall before crumpling to the floor. Like before when Azimio had gotten his hands on her everything got quiet except for specific sounds such as Brittany shouting her name and baby Samuel's cries. She couldn't quite recall why she was on the floor or why her head hurt so much, but Brittany was shouting her name and all she knew was that she needed to stand and show she was okay. With an almighty groan, she mustered her strength and stood only to find herself yanked off her feet and dragged away, out of the council room, through the royal hall and to the servant's. From the inhuman grip she could tell it was Azimio that had her, she considered struggling but decided that there was no point.

Soon she was in a part of the castle that not even she recognized, but she gathered from the way she was being dragged down endless flights of stairs that it was the dungeons. When she found she was right she wasn't exactly surprised, but she was when she spotted Karofsky sitting at the opening of the hall that held all the cells. She had assumed he would have resumed his old role of understeward, but apparently Azimio had something else in mind for the man that had taken his position.

"Open a cell," he demanded without so much as a greeting to the other man.

Karofsky looked at her with alarm and confusion before scrambling to do as he was told and once the rusty door was opened she was thrown in the cell with all the care that he had used to chuck her against the wall.

This time she tasted blood when her face connected with the floor and she glared in the direction she suspected he was in. Though she still couldn't see straight, so she could only assume he had seen it when she heard his footsteps march off.

"Let her speak to no one," Azimio ordered as he marched away.

Bruised and bloodied, she crawled into a corner and curled into herself, forcing her eyes to close and her body to relax. She couldn't quite remember what had just happened, but she knew it was bad, she was in trouble and whatever it was had made Brittany scream her name… but no matter how she tried she couldn't think why.

Instead of pushing the issue she let herself drift to sleep, because maybe then everything would make sense.

* * *

When Santana woke hours later there was a brief moment where she thought she dreamed everything that had happened during the day, but a splitting headache and a cold, unforgiving stone floor told her otherwise before her eyes had even focused.

Sitting up, she looked over herself and saw that she was covered in dried blood, a lump on her head and the cut on her lip told her not all of it was the king's. She tried to stand, but her head swam and she wobbled a bit before collapsing on the floor.

"You shouldn't attempt to stand," said a soft voice just outside her cell.

Startled, she squinted into the darkness to just make out the outline of Matthew's form, "Am I going mad or are you really here?" she asked, because why would Karofsky allow anyone near her?

"I am here," he said turning in the chair she could now see he was reclined in.

"Why?"

He hung his head before rubbing his brow, "Because they are currently holding a trial for the queen and it is something I cannot bear to watch."

Brittany.

She had forgotten that Brittany had thrown herself into the middle of this. She felt her heart race and it made her dizzy once more.

"She won't be harmed, will she?" Santana asked, her words thick with fear.

"If she continues to profess that you two were lovers then she will suffer the same fate as you."

"Which is?"

He rubbed his head again, "Beheading."

The stark finality of the word stole her air, "Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say.

There was a suffocating silence between them for a long while before he looked up to her and asked, "Is it true? I mean _really_ true?"

"That we are lovers? Yes."

A sardonic chuckle escaped him, "All my knowledge and somehow I didn't see that. Now, looking back, it is rather obvious."

"I suppose," she answered absently, more concerned with what was happening with Brittany than anything.

"I thought you a more cautious woman than this," he sighed, his voice suddenly breaking a little.

Surprised by the unexpected emotion, she responded quickly and truthfully, "I love her."

"What does that have to do with anything, Santana?!" he snapped and she jumped at the sound even more shocked by his apparent anger than the question, "You can love her without endangering your life to bed her!"

"I tried that path. I didn't fare so well," she said sadly, looking to the floor, because the pain in his eyes reminded her too much of the very real consequences she was to face. More importantly the consequences that Brittany would face.

Hope was held within her that the queen would see reason, that she would think of Samuel and accept the council's offer for leniency, that she would let Santana face her fate on her own. She wished it while knowing how unlikely it was.

Matthew stood, the force of the action knocking his chair to the floor, as he began to pace frantically.

"I cannot believe you would do something so foolish! And in plain sight!"

"We were never in plain sight, they made up what they saw... this would have happened whether I had bedded her or not," Santana said softly, looking down at the grime covered floor, wishing she could hold Brittany again.

Here, faced with imminent demise, she wanted to see her queen; to see Samuel. Separated from all those things she now realized how much they meant to her, she isn't surprised that she ached to be with her lover, it did surprise her, however, to know that her heart yearned for Samuel, for his laugh and unconditional love.

She idly realized Matthew was still talking.

Looking up to him, she raised her eyebrows lazily, suddenly she was so tired, so broken and bone weary, because this was the end of her journey.

"Are you listening to me? There is nothing I can do for you!"

Her head ached from his shouting and all of the abuse it had suffered, with a scowl she prepared to ask when she had ever asked him to help her, then she saw he still had that look. The same one from before, that bespoke inner turmoil and grief, because there _was_ something he could do, and since it could very well not work or cost him his life, he was afraid to do it.

"I don't want you to do anything, Matthew," she said wearily, her words coming slowly as she slumped back to the hard floor, eager for sleep to take her from all that troubled her. "Be safe, keep your course and help others like you helped me."

Having absolved him of all responsibility, she allowed herself to sleep again.

She had no idea how much time had passed when her eyes opened again, the dungeon lacked windows, or even notable amounts of light so when there was a loud banging noise she sat up suddenly, disoriented and afraid. Quickly she looked around for Matthew but found he and his chair were gone. Sitting up, she winced as her body protested having been laid down on the stone floor for so long.

From down the hall she could hear grunts and muttered curses, she was ready to lie back down since the comings and goings of the jailer were of no concern to her, until a familiar voice reached her ears.

It was hardly more than a sigh, but it was loud enough to reach Santana's ears and she knew right away it was Brittany. Suddenly she was wide awake and she moved as close to her cell door as she could manage to try and catch a glimpse of her, but the other end of the hall was too far out of sight.

"Keep them separated, king's orders."

The voice had been Azimio and she could only assume Brittany had been handed off to Karofsky. There was the clanking of chains and a yelp of pain from Brittany before heavy footfalls signaled someone's departure.

The silence that fell afterwards was deafening, Santana considered calling out to her but knew if she was indeed there she would respond and Karofsky would probably smack her for it. Still she fought with the idea that this may well be the last chance she had to hear her voice. Before she could come to a decision heavy footfalls, accompanied by the clamor of chains, started once more, curiously though they came closer instead of farther away. And then with no warning Brittany was before her, Karofsky holding her gently by the arm. Their eyes locked and an endless stream of confessions, apologies and adulations were silently exchanged, because words couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of what needed to be said. Once more Santana attempted to get to her feet and, even though she had slept for what felt like a fortnight, stumbled back onto the floor, landing painfully.

"Santana!" Brittany cried out as she struggled to be free of her bonds.

Karofsky forced her to hold still, but not with the spiteful slap Santana would have expected, he was completely calm as he unlocked her shackles and then proceeded to unlock the door.

He moved his hand to guide her inside, but that proved wholly unnecessary when Brittany dashed in and scooped Santana into her arms, holding her tightly. Santana returned the embrace but kept her eyes on Karofsky as he closed the cell door again, his eyes carefully avoiding hers.

"Not that I'm not grateful, but why?" she couldn't keep herself from asking.

Even when he answered he did not meet her gaze, "I have favor to repay," he said quietly in his thick rumbling accent, and with that he walked away.

Frowning, she tried to remember a single time she had ever done him a favor, her memory came up blank until she remembered their conversation one morning before the queen's room. It hadn't been a favor by any means, but it was something that meant enough to him to grant her this precious moment. So instead of worrying over it further she turned her face into the soft skin of Brittany's neck and held her for all she was worth.

"I thought I would never see you again," Santana whispered softly.

"I thought the same," her voice was small and weak and her body trembled violently in the smaller woman's strong grasp.

"I love you, mi reina," she said, because she knew there was every chance this would be her last opportunity to say it.

A small chuckle left her, "And I love you, though I am no one's queen any longer."

"You will always be my queen."

Brittany didn't respond right away, but the hug she was given did get tighter, her body ached from the force of it, but she wouldn't dare ask her to stop. Gathering her strength, Santana managed to sit up and properly face the woman she loved so dearly, those blue eyes held barely contained tears and when she leaned forward to kiss her they finally fell.

Leaning back, Santana smiled sadly, "You knew this would happen, from long ago."

She nodded, wiping determinedly at her face, "I did," she sobbed.

"Why did you give yourself over to them?" Santana asked, trying not to sound as exasperated as she was, "You could have escaped with your life, the council was on your side."

"I don't want a life that is bought with your death."

"Even for Samuel? I know how you love him and wish to raise him, couldn't you have done it for him?" she pleaded wondering if Brittany changed her mind if it would be possible for the council to reverse their decision.

"I can stand tall through many things, but watching you be executed is not one. The me who could watch that happen and still breathe is not who I would want to raise my son, in that regard even Shelby is better."

"Was it always your plan to come with me?"

With another swift nod she wiped at more tears, Santana reached over and took her hands away and stroked her cheek gently. There was no use in her fighting the tears and she really wanted to touch Brittany as much as she could.

"I never saw a way out for me that didn't include you dying, so yes. That's why…" she paused, a pained look overcoming her as a shuddering sob wracked her body, "That's why I wanted to send you away so badly, because it was the only way for you to escape, but I was so selfish I kept you here."

With the admission a fresh wave of tears ran down her face, Santana gave a genuine smile as she leaned forward and kissed her several times to calm her.

"I meant it when I said you couldn't have made me leave, I hoped for the future I spoke of, but I have always known in some way this would be my end whether I loved you or not. I'm glad that at the least I am not to be sent off to die thinking of what could have been between us."

"I'm sorry," Brittany whimpered as she pulled Santana close, and hid her face in the smaller woman's bloody shirt, "I failed you so badly. I should have sent you away no matter what. I knew he would have harmed you regardless of the state things were in when he returned. I knew it, but I let myself believe we could make it through. A knight should know better," she sobbed again and Santana could feel her hot tears drenching her blood stained shirt once more, "I'm so, so sorry."

Feeling the grief pouring from her, Santana knew this was going to be her last chance to do the thing she had promised herself she would. Even though she was scared herself, she was going to have to be strong enough to carry both their burdens. This time she would be the knight for her queen and this time she would not fail.

Tilting Brittany's head up to meet her eyes she wiped her face clean of blood and tears, "Don't cry, you have been the best ruler the kingdom has ever seen. I admire everything about you, because you kept your heart in the midst of this cruelty and made everyone else remember theirs. Don't you dare regret my fate, because if I had the choice to do everything over I would choose to love you over and over again."

Brittany curled up closer to her, "Is it okay for a knight to admit she's scared?"

Brushing her hair from her face, Santana smiled at her, "Yes, and you are still so very brave."

Her aching body protested once again as her queen held her tighter, "Then I would like to amend that and say that I am terrified."

"And that is okay as well," she replied, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

* * *

In that cell time didn't pass normally, or at least Santana couldn't tell if it did or not. It could have been an evening or a moon's turn since there was no window to the world outside. Karofsky would come and go, occasionally sliding meals through the bars, though she wasn't sure how many they were being given a day so she couldn't even use it to gauge the passage of time.

All she did was sit and comfort Brittany, they talked little, but when they did Santana assured her that no matter what happened they would be together.

Even at the end.

An end she dreaded more than anything now that it involved more than just herself, but she held strong and kept back the tears she wanted to shed. She wanted to cry for her life, for Brittany's, for Samuel and the life he would lead with no one but Shelby and Archibald to show the way. There were so many things she regretted in her life, though few of those things were under her control and none of them involved Brittany. In the end no matter how she wanted to scream and wail over her jaded past and bleak, short future she merely held her lover tight and reassured her.

It even gave her a sense of pride to hold Brittany as the other woman wept openly in her arms, she was being the knight she had always promised to be, and with every passing heartbeat her resolve not to break strengthened.

A fact that kept her from breaking down when Karofsky appeared before them without food, but shackles in his hand. She knew what it all meant before he even said a word.

"It is time," Karofsky said quietly as he opened the cell.

He moved to place the bindings on the queen's hands and when he moved to her she whispered softly, "If you can, take her first."

The large man stilled at the request, though he nodded a moment later as he lifted them both to follow him out where she saw several guards waiting to escort them out. One stepped forward, yanking her roughly from Karofsky's grasp, however, when another attempted to take Brittany from his custody he just glared the man back into his place.

They left the dungeons to be lead up endless stairs and out into the blinding light of day, where, in the distance, Santana could hear an uproar coming from the main courtyard. The sound prompted Brittany to look back at her, fear all over her face, and Santana looked back sending her love, because it was all she could offer.

Luckily when they were actually brought to the courtyard the blonde's gaze had returned forward, because even Santana's mask of calm broke at the re-erected executioner's block surrounded by, what looked like, every citizen in the castle and the town beyond. The wealthy and poor alike were crowded together to see what would become of their queen, some seemed enraged while most looked excited or even glad and she could only guess what the king had told them about what had happened. The entirety of the castle's fighting force was needed to keep the subjects in line as every person wanted to scramble for a better position.

Looking higher up she saw Archibald sitting in the shaded area by the block slumped in his chair while glaring hotly towards them. He looked pale and ill and Santana was glad of it, her wound hadn't managed to kill him, but if it took some of his joy from killing his wife then it was completely worth the trouble. To his right sat baby Samuel who, despite Shelby's best efforts, was crying at the top of his lungs, she was sure because his mouth was open all the way and his feet were kicking in that way they did when he was running out of air. She was more than a little glad the crowd below was so loud they drowned out the actual sound of his cries, because they would have broken Brittany's heart all over again. To the left of the king stood Matthew, his head bowed, it seemed to Santana as if he couldn't bear to look at them any longer, like it was far too painful to even consider.

Then, on the block, there was Azimio.

He stood with a black hood and a long handled axe that gleamed menacingly, she could see nothing of him but his eyes, but she still knew he couldn't have been happier to be the one to bring them death.

On the wall overlooking the castle grounds stood Puck, his eyes somber, though he didn't look away. He seemed to know there was nothing he could do, yet every muscle in his body was tense as if he were one step away from trying anyway. Santana sent him a placating look to try to get through to him that there was truly nothing to be gained from the effort, he would only die with them. She wasn't sure if he got the message, but he did turn around to look out over the vast plains behind him.

It was then she noticed he was standing next to two crosses that she was quite sure hadn't been there before. For a moment she wondered what purpose they could serve until she glanced back at the king's wicked glare and understood that he had no intention of letting his revenge end in their demise, he intended to display them for all to see for some time afterwards.

The sight made her shudder and she genuinely hoped that for once Brittany wouldn't be able to figure something out. A sharp pain shot through her arm when the guard holding her yanked her forward and dragged her from her position next to Karofsky and Brittany who stood waiting along the stairway that would take them to Azimio's blade.

Brittany's eyes found hers, they were still wide and panicked and she could tell the blonde was quite close to crying again.

Since they were already sentenced to death Santana saw no reason to restrain herself so she reached out and held the frightened blue gaze with steady eyes, because her queen needed it. She needed Santana to be strong for once and she would be, even though everything inside her was screaming.

"Don't look at him, don't look at anyone but me. Remember that I love you, mi reina, and even death won't stop it from being true," she said in a rush and kissed her briefly before the guard holding her could yank her back, making a sound of disgust.

Karofsky merely stood as if he had not heard the whole exchange, even though a few in the crowd had seen the kiss and exploded into even more indistinguishable sound.

Whatever their feelings on the display Santana was content to have shared her first public kiss with her lover. Her feeling of accomplishment was dashed, however, when the king weakly waved for them to be brought forward.

The guard holding Santana moved, but Karofsky glared at him, making the man still instantly, before he guided Brittany in front of him. Santana felt her insides squirm as the consequences of her actions were being realized, she had asked him to take her first because she knew it was all she could offer her queen. The only gift she could give in this mess that had been made was to keep Brittany from having to watch her die, Santana would take that burden even though it was making her nauseous to see the blonde get closer and closer to Azimio who was almost aquiver with anticipation.

The crowd's cheers became louder and Brittany seemed more distraught than ever but she remembered to focus on the only face that was calm. Santana held her gaze and smiled at her lovingly. When the king motioned for silence, which he only partially received, and asked Brittany for her final words she said nothing, she didn't even look his way, she merely kept her focus on the woman who held her heart.

Archibald scoffed at her indifference and waved his hand dismissively for Azimio to get on with it. Karofsky gently guided her to kneel and Santana watched with steady, dry eyes, noting how even with the grime of the dungeon coating her dress and fear apparent on her face she looked the most beautiful she ever had. Her hair practically glowed in the sunlight and her eyes were a shade of blue that would have made the ocean jealous.

And it hit Santana that this must be what it's like to watch a star die, to watch it burn brightest before it goes out.

Once she was made to kneel before the block, her neck on display for the thirsty blade Santana saw that she was still holding back her tears. Something Santana was having to do as well, with all her might, their eyes remained locked as Azimio aligned the axe with her neck and as he reared back Santana could only say 'I love you, mi reina'. Words mouthed into silence, but they were heard, she could see in the way those blue eyes calmed that she heard.

Then the axe fell.

The sound of her death was lost under the cheers of the crowd and, as much as Santana despised them for their easily swayed loyalty, she was glad for it. Closing her eyes she allowed the tears she had been holding back to fall, because there was no one to be brave for, there was no one to help.

When she finally opened her eyes again the world didn't seem so bright and noises didn't reach her ears right, it seemed easier to hear the thrumming of her heart in her own ears than anything that was being shouted to her from below.

She didn't watch as Puck removed Brittany's body from the block, as a matter of fact she kept her eyes firmly on the ground as the guard that held her yanked her forward and to her final destination. Her eyes only lifted when the muted voice of the king reached her ears.

"Any final words?" he asked, as if he not only didn't care, but hadn't even wanted to ask in the first place.

His grey eyes were hard and hateful, and obviously Samuel's continued cries were testing his patience. Looking him over, she allowed herself to sneer, because there was nothing he could do to hurt her any longer, in giving her death he had given her freedom. Although she could let her last words be poisonous hate towards him and his kingdom she didn't bother, standing before him she felt he wasn't worth it, all she had ever wanted to say to him had already been said by the blade she had shoved through his side.

A strong breeze blew over the courtyard and she turned her face into it, an unfortunate action since it lead her to see Puck still tying Brittany's lifeless body to the cross upon the wall. His face was covered in tears he wasn't even trying to hide and when their eyes met his dropped almost immediately as more fell. She realized that this just so happened to be the view she had been afforded on her fist night at the castle, in fact it had been on this very structure, something she would have found amusing if it wasn't so cruel.

The king repeated his question as if she hadn't heard, though she didn't acknowledge him. Not only because she didn't care to but because in the distance she saw horsemen, a cavalry unit from the look of them. From her position she could see several banners but only recognized one; it was the white and black of the West.

She almost laughed at their impeccable timing but didn't, because since the entirety of castle Abrams military force was overseeing the king's safety and controlling the crowd none of them had seen, there were no guards in the tall watchtower to sound the alarm. It did not escape her understanding that were she to point it out she could very well have her execution postponed to give her a chance at escape or possibly even rescue if the mounted riders were also superb fighters, but that was the last thing she would ever want. Not now, not with Brittany gone from this world.

Puck's attentions were drawn to the distant movement, he looked from them to Santana and instantly understood, the man turned away positioning himself to block the view from the king who could have easily seen them too if he had bothered to turn his head.

On the other hand Matthew had noticed, his body was tense and alert as he watched the hordes of horses come over the ridge and dip out of view into the valley below. He moved closer to the king, ready to alert him to the danger, but Santana couldn't have that.

Karofsky had taken hold of her and was gently pushing her to kneel when she stood straight, deciding now she knew what her last words would be.

"Memento vitae."

The king frowned at her as if she had lost her mind, but Matthew paused, because Santana was looking directly at him. Her words were meant for no one but him and he knew it, he knew what she meant.

When his hands fell to his side and he gave a fleeting glance past Puck to the last of the cavalry as they vanished into the hidden crevices of the land, she knew he had received her message.

It was with true contentment that she knelt before Azimio.

The screams of the crowd and the thick smell and feel of blood washed away as she placed her head on the block and closed her eyes. Because in her mind she wasn't before the king waiting for his hateful guard to end her life.

She was in the observatory warm and safe, across from Brittany, the look of sunlight on golden curls, reflecting the color to her face and lighting the curves of her body.

She was running her fingers through soft curls and earning the smile that would always stay in her memory.

When the axe fell Santana's face held an expression of true contentment.

* * *

A/N: Trust my tiny paw and stay with me, I know how it looks. Just hold on tight, I can lead you out of the dark forest.


	24. Chapter 24

Matthew wasn't sure what had changed inside him at the sight of Santana's death, it wasn't a feeling he could pinpoint exactly, but it was akin to a hammer striking metal or an arrow meeting its mark. Something was one way and then it was another, he was conflicted in one moment and the next he wasn't.

The feeling puzzled him, because he had watched many people die.

Many people he loved dearly.

He had watched his mother die at the king sovereign's hands at a young age, he must have only seen a handful of winters at the time, but even then, as angry and hurt as he had been, he had been able to keep his feelings to himself. Because his mother had been threatening to tell the king's wife of their indiscretions together, something that could not be allowed under any circumstances. When he grew older he merely took her death as further proof that it was best to keep to himself and not to push too far.

Countless men and women passed through the gates of Castle Abrams, few were friends and many of them died because of the harsh conditions within or were killed for breaking some law or another. The only people who were constant in his life had been Brittany and Archibald, and despite what Archibald had become, he loved them both deeply. For all he was the king had never struck him or denied him basic human rights as most in power did. In private he treated him more as a friend and confidant than a slave; even though his gifts and displays of friendship often came in skewed forms, they were there.

Through everything, through every death and beating, he reasoned away any guilt or thoughts of retribution for the man that treated him as a brother or for the king sovereign that had allowed him to learn more than any slave probably ever had.

He had done so with his mother, when the then prince had denied Jean any decent medical care that led to her death, he ignored how any woman he felt more than a passing affection for ended up being sold to some lord or brothel. He had glanced over the countless women that had been less than willing for Archibald's eager touch, had easily swallowed his pride when his plans and thoughts were stolen and presented by the man he thought of as a friend. Even though it had always troubled him, he even overlooked his cruelty towards Brittany for what it was in favor of believing it was a result of his parents never spending enough time with him.

Something he could only do when he forced himself to forget that he, Brittany and Puck had all grown up without any at all.

When the king had limped before the court and spoke of the queen's infidelity and proceeded to tell the masses lies that made Matthew's conscience cringe he held fast. Once the crowd had been convinced that the queen who had saved them was an immoral beast of a woman they had cried out for blood and even the council couldn't ignore them, yet still he stood without uttering a word, because what could he say?

At the time where trial had begun Matthew had admittedly wavered and gone to speak to Santana, but upon hearing that the tale of infidelity was true he was able to make excuses again. Sure, it required him to fail in recalling the countless indiscretions the king had made since his wedding day, but he was able to do it.

He was able to watch the kindest woman he had ever had the pleasure of knowing meet her end at the hands of the cruelest man he had ever seen. It had hurt fiercely, it took more out of him than he ever thought possible with a pain that was so deep it was physically crippling.

But he withstood it, still standing at the king's side as he always had.

And then came Santana and with two words she made him see how much of a fool he was being, and in her death she made him decide to change that.

Looking at Archibald now he saw no remnants of the boy who had played with him as a child, or the man who was hopeful for the future and determined to impress his father. This was a bitter, ill tempered tyrant who had disregarded every possible courtesy due to his wife and her servant to fulfill his own needs. Next to him was a person who planned to lie and kill to get what he wanted and every want he had was selfish, evidenced clearly in the way his son still sat next to him crying with wild abandon while he offered nothing other than an angry scowl in return.

The king was pale and in need of bed rest but had insisted he be present for the execution, he had also insisted his son be present, and now that the boy was screaming as if he truly understood what had happened Matthew could not understand why anyone had thought that a fitting idea.

Matthew's eyes found Puck's, the blacksmith looked back at him with matching eyes, they were hollow, wounded, and resigned. They looked to each other for little more than a heartbeat, but the message between them was sent and received.

The king stood and Matthew helped, albeit with less care than he had when he'd sat the man down. Shelby stood to follow, but he raised a hand to keep her seated.

"Do not follow me with that noise!" he barked, "Wait until I have gone and then take him somewhere I can't hear."

With that he limped away, his healer rushing to his side with a cane in hand, one Archibald swatted him with when he failed to move out of the way in time. Several guards fell in line as they left the platform and the large group descended to the castle. Matthew followed at a casual pace as they made their way to the royal bed chamber, not saying one word. The king seemed to have noticed, because when he was back in his bed, surrounded by healers all looking over the wound in his side to be sure nothing had worsened from his trip, he commented on it.

"Why so quiet? I would have thought you'd have a speech ready for me by now?" he said casually.

Matthew's eyes narrowed, "Do you feel you need one?"

"No, though you missing a chance to try and make me feel guilt for carrying out my duty as ruler is about as odd as a beggar missing a chance to ask for coin."

"Was that your duty?" he asked, surprised to find how easily his anger was surfacing, "Your father fights a war contingent on a man whose daughter you just killed."

Archibald huffed in irritation, "My father can more than handle those ruffians, besides the problem was a matter of succession and she already bore the whelp everyone was so intent we have. Whatever his complaints, surely Samuel's life should be enough to calm them. Besides, she is an admitted adulterer, her father cannot fault me for my response and neither will mine."

"And was there truly no room for mercy?"

"Mercy?!" he laughed, "For that perverse, adulterous bitch? What next, Matthew? Should I grant land to deserters?"

"No, it was for me when I pleaded with you to merely banish them, since they both meant so much to me I was asking mercy for myself."

"But it was not your place!" he shouted, making his healers jump back in surprise, the action must have hurt a great deal since his stitching began to bleed slowly, but he didn't pay it any mind, "Mercy is for kings and kings alone to give! It is not something slaves have the right to give out or request of their masters!"

Matthew's eyes darkened as he considered the king before he gave a formal bow, "Of course, my lord."

He continued about his daily duties as he always had, read letters and wrote replies in the king's stead. When it was time for the king's evening meal he returned to his side to feed him since he had yet to find a replacement for Sunshine. The meal passed in silence and afterwards he took his own, seeing Puck but saying nothing to the man who clearly couldn't stomach looking at his own food. And given what his task had been Matthew could hardly blame him.

He returned to his room and lay down, wide awake, until he was sure the night was well underway, then rose from his bed and slipped into the servants' corridors. It was almost amusing to find the guards before the king's door half asleep when he left, Archibald's paranoia over his own safety after Santana had stabbed him clearly wasn't felt by his own protectors.

Weaving expertly through the halls, he eventually arrived at the hidden makeshift tavern which was bustling noisily with the many castle servants who had known the queen her whole life, drowning their sorrows in drink. In the far corner he spotted two figures and made his way to sit across from them, he was only momentarily surprised to see Sunshine sitting next to Puck, her expression as grave as his.

Leaning forward to keep their voices hidden in the ruckus of the room, Matthew said, "You saw the cavalry riding towards us? I am quite sure that was Lord Schuester and his rebels rushing in to strike us as we struck the West. At the sped they were traveling they should be here some time before dawn, and as they are flying their banners my guess is that they have forgone the element of surprise, yet they unknowingly have it. However, it's still a foolish plan for many reasons. We should rectify that."

Puck nodded and Sunshine did the same, "Whadaya need me t' do?" the other man asked.

Matthew paused, "Are you ready to do this? Both of you?"

"After today the king's lucky I don't jus' go in there and bash his head in," Puck growled and Sunshine nodded.

"Why don't we do that?" she asked suddenly as if the idea was far better than she had anticipated when she agreed.

"Because killing Archibald will only recall the king sovereign to take over, if we can give the raiders an edge the castle will fall from the Abrams' control. Permanently."

"What if they no better?" Sunshine asked, frowning deeply.

"We either take that chance or let what happened today stand."

"Let's take a chance," Puck said immediately.

Nodding, Matthew leaned in even closer, "What I am going to suggest is dangerous for all of us and will very likely result in death. I can do this on my own, but the chances of success go up greatly with your help."

"I already said I'm doin' it, I ain't goin' back on my word, 'specially not after what he did."

Matthew smiled, because even though it was so very late he was going to start making amends, he was taking his first step towards a life of no regret even if it meant the end of him.

* * *

Sam felt the tingling nausea that came to him every time he went to battle; this time it was so much worse, because they were so likely to fail. Will had warned him how reckless their mission was before he so much as picked a horse to ride, but he took it anyway, because he had to get to the castle.

It had been nearly midday when they had ridden over the damning ridge that exposed them to the castle, so they were all prepared for resistance when they entered the outer city. Actually, they had expected riders to come out and attempt to crush them in the fields long before then, but they hadn't.

Will suggested that they were merely opting to use the tactical advantage of the castle instead, but now with them a few short leagues from the castle's doors no one was to be seen.

Another shiver went through him as a chill wind hit, compounding with the wind of his running steed to make him feel as if he were back in that horrible stronghold struggling through another winter.

He had come from their depressing defeat in the West believing that all hope was lost, that the castellans would eventually bow to their king once more. Then came Will with his inspiring words and unyielding spirit, he proved to everyone the South was not as complacent as it seemed and that they shouldn't be either, that they would fight and win.

He didn't really buy all that. He had seen what became of those that faced the king's army and he had been to the North to assist Lord Nelson in rebuilding his castle. The king was reckless, well armed, and despite what an idiot he could be, quite a competent fighter. However, Will had also mentioned his plan to take the king's castle from under him, and that's what sold Sam to the cause, because that was where Santana was.

Even now as he looked to the looming gates he hoped to catch sight of her, though he knew it would be wildly unlikely.

Up front Will slowed his mount and signaled everyone to do the same, a motion mimicked by his second in command, Finn. The signal was wholly unneeded, but the large man felt the need to play the leader from time to time.

Their horses slowed further as they reached the edge of the town that surrounded the castle and trotted to one of the outlying homes with the largest, yet poorest looking yard.

The home belonged to a family that kept a scarce few chickens and a handful of horses, Sam could only wonder at why they were stopping at the house, he couldn't see how all of their horses could be kept unnoticed for long.

Will dismounted and knocked gently on the door, it opened and there stood a small, feminine looking man who seemed to have dressed almost theatrically plain. In a large burlap cloak with an oversized hood he may have been a wizard in a play rather than a ranch hand.

"I thought you'd have been seen long ago, everyone is in place, but no one has come," the man said quickly, looking around rather nervously.

"Do you think they've caught word of our plan?" Finn asked.

Will looked off into the distance at the dark castle, "No, if I know anything about Archibald it is that he is not a patient man. There is no reason for him to hold off, if he suspected an ambush he would have dealt with you."

Sam's brow furrowed, "Ambush?"

He wasn't really supposed to involve himself in his superiors' plans and Finn seemed irritated that he was openly listening to the conversation, but Will only nodded.

" It's a part of the plan few were told in order to keep it secret. We were to entice King Abrams to come rushing out at us when we made our approach over the peak of the valley. Kurt here has managed to gather quite a force to hide here in the outlying homes, we have a few hundred men lying in wait to take them down when they passed through to get to us."

"Kurt Hummel? Lord Kurt Hummel?" Sam questioned, "Aren't you neutral?"

His eyes narrowed, "The man is mad, I am willing to stay out of open disputes, but the king has shown wild disregard for the safety of his own men and the king sovereign's unwillingness to take note of this makes him equally as negligent. To ignore the issue further is to invite disaster to every soul in this land including those here. That said, I am not here as an emissary of my family, I am merely a man who wants to protect the land he loves."

"Only a pacifist when it suits you? Ah, the true colors of the Hummel clan," said someone from behind them.

All eyes turned to the sharp featured man that spoke, and upon seeing him Sam calmed and Kurt sneered, "Sebastian," the smaller man growled like one might address a pile of manure.

"I rather prefer Lord Smythe, Kurt," he shot back with a withering smile.

Kurt ignored him, but Sam gave him a pleading look to behave, the man was always riling others to fights at the worst times. He had a short temper that was paired poorly with a cruel tongue, but for all that he had kept Sam alive during the cold winter, the albeit brief battle at the Western outpost and many other fiercer ones besides. He was also the one responsible for training him with a sword, though Sebastian was still incomparably more skilled.

It wasn't very apparent to him why the man who so prided himself on being able to repel others had bothered to care for him. There were rumors his mentor was attracted to younger men, but they were barely two years apart and the other man had never tried to be more than a friend. In any case Sam didn't care for the reason, he was only thankful that the man had bothered at all, and as such he did what he could to keep him from causing trouble in Will's hearing as that always led to something bad.

Sebastian reminded him of Santana in a lot of ways.

Knowing it would cause more offence, he questioned on to try and cover Sebastian's slight, "What of the home owners?" he asked, looking past Kurt as if he might find slumped bodies.

"Will you hush and let us finish our business," Finn hissed at him, "We are in the midst of something serious."

"We are," Will agreed, "But I too am curious where the home owners lie."

Kurt blushed slightly, "They have been restrained, gently," he added quickly, "and they are being fed and treated like royalty. That can't be untied or leave their homes."

"With that settled, what are your orders?" Finn asked, ever the persistent soldier.

Much to Finn's consternation Sebastian asked, "Is it possible they did not see our approach?"

"It is," Kurt sighed, "there was a great to do at the castle that had the town almost empty."

"Do you know what it was?"

"That would imply I wandered into town to hear the latest gossip when I was supposed to be watching my post."

The men only stared at one another before Will asked, "So did you?"

"No!" he snapped.

Their leader thought even longer before he turned to the men waiting behind him.

"We will ride tonight, Kurt, rally the men from the other homes and follow us, we will take the inner court as suddenly as we can manage and push through to the king."

"Consider it done," the small man said quickly before vanishing into the house.

Will mounted his horse again and they watched as Kurt reemerged, followed by an almost absurd number of people given the size of the house. As they pressed on they gathered more and more men from the homes they passed, and soon they were a full fledged fighting force on the way to the castle doors.

The night was quiet when they reached the first gate and Will already had his sword drawn to begin the attack, but no one was present. Not a single guard, and the gate was wide open.

Sam immediately suspected a trap but didn't dare voice it for many reasons, because it wouldn't have made him change his mind about proceeding, Will surely already knew, and Finn would probably pass out from rage if he broke the eerie silence that only their horses hooves were encroaching upon.

Upon approaching the inner city Will called for a halt and everyone stopped to await further instructions. Sam watched him lean over to confer with Finn before the larger man turned to the troops and shouted for a charge.

The sound was sudden, jarring, and in Sam's opinion, entirely unnecessary, the shout seemed to bounce off every wall and as the cavalry kicked their horses into motion and those on foot gained speed, everything was lost in a wall of noise.

Nobles from the surrounding homes stumbled to their windows to investigate the commotion, but not one dared set foot outside. The horses barreled through the empty streets and arrived swiftly at the inner gate which was surprisingly just as unguarded. Sam's mount reared up when he pulled it to a stop, his heart pounding rapidly as he waited for the trap to spring, but none did.

As a matter of fact he began to realize as torches were lit in the halls all around them that they were only just then being noticed.

"We have caught them unawares! Strike hard and true, this battle will be over before first light!" Will cried out, and it was the last thing Sam could hear.

His ears were filled with screams and clanking armor as the first of the available guards rushed out and were promptly struck down. The men on foot poured into the castle like a swarm of locust and the commotion only grew. More guards appeared and he watched in abstract fear as they too were killed, but then more came, their numbers greater and it wasn't only their side that was able to hold ground.

"Draw your sword or fall back, boy," snapped a waspish voice from next to him.

Sam looked to his right to see Sebastian, rapier in hand, as he dismounted and made quick work of an incoming attacker. The younger man could think of few others he would rather have at his side in the fight and his courage soared. Looking around, he saw Finn hadn't gotten far and was still fighting from horseback, Will had vanished elsewhere and he could recognize no one else in the bedlam.

Quickly he pulled out his sword and leapt from his horse, determined to keep close to Sebastian for the moment. It took one near miss from a spearman to make Sam focus and fight like he knew how, he was no artist with his weapon like the man at his back, but he was quite capable of cutting those down that came too close.

Then all of a sudden the chaos escalated when countless servants came pouring out of the castle mixing in with the guards, some of which hadn't even had the time to armor themselves making them indistinguishable.

He watched his fellow warriors cut down man and woman alike, not bothering to distinguish in the confusion indistinguishable hostiles and darkness. A sweeping fear overcame him when he thought of Santana trying to escape the pandemonium, making him lose focus just enough for a swordsman to get too close for him to be able to stop. For a long, oddly slow moment he watched the sword descend towards his face, he could see the desperate look in the man's eyes, how he wore no armor, how he had a deep wound of his own… how an arrow planted itself in his temple making his body twirl absurdly in the air before falling lifelessly to the ground.

Air returned to Sam in a rush as he looked for his savior and found him standing back by the gate, bow in hand, already notching another arrow. To his utter astonishment it was Kurt.

"Peacekeeper my arse," Sebastian grumbled behind him before sending his blade into another man's vital organs, "He is neutral like a rock is a pillow, now get your head on, boy, we've a lot of killing to do before the night is over!"

He nodded and was able to strike down several more men before another distraction caught his eye. A short ways away there was a small girl wielding a blacksmith's hammer and a larger, darker skinned man with a sword making a stand in the center of the courtyard. From their attire they had not arrived with their group meaning they were castle servants of some sort, yet they were killing castle guards, and brutally at that.

The girl struck incoming attackers with a well-muscled arm forcing her hammer to do incredible damage, even going as far as planting it into the men's breastplates, having somehow pinpointed the weakest point in the metal. The larger man was overpowering them with brute strength and between them there was almost a mist of blood in the air. As odd as it was, he was able to shake off the sight, and keep close to Sebastian as they moved closer to the castle doors.

Unfortunately, he didn't make it far before something else shook his concentration, but in all fairness how could it not. There was a dark haired woman running through the courtyard, hysterically screaming his name, he thought it odd since he was rather sure he'd never met her. Nonetheless she seemed rather desperate to find him and he was about to run to her, but the woman foolishly wandered between two men clashing their swords powerfully. The meeting of both blades and her body did not end with her the victor.

It was a hard sight to tear his eyes away from since even in her final moments she called out to him, but Sebastian called his name and at the least he knew what the other man wanted. So he turned and followed, finally making it into Castle Abrams.

The long, lush hallways were empty, leaving them free to run and search for the others that had come through. Sam merely followed the man before him, feeling astonished that he knew where to go but then felt foolish when he realized they were merely following the muddy hoof prints in the carpet.

The trail lead them past countless bodies cut down in passing, and eventually to the source of the prints. It was Will's horse, but the beast was alone, sniffing hopelessly at the carpeting as though it might find a scrap of hay. Luckily Will's shoes were as clean as his horse's and they were able to follow them to their leader. There was a point while approaching the corner that the steps did a strange dance and both men stopped to examine it when the answer came shooting from the distant hall.

Will stumbled back into their view and, upon seeing them, had just enough time to shout, "DOWN!"

Sam needed not be told twice, and the word had barely left his mouth when Sebastian had himself laid out flat on the floor. It took less time for the flap of a birds wings for the reason to follow. The blade of an enormous sword crashed into the stone wall crumbling like it were made of twigs. Pebbles exploded over all three of them as the blade was pulled easily from where it had buried itself in the wall and a colossal, dark skinned man came into view, his eyes full of bloodlust, their gaze solely on Will while he continued to scramble back.

The large man swung again and Will barely rolled out of the way before the enormous blade tore a divot through carpet and stone like it was as weak as flesh.

Sebastian got to his feet easily, a familiar, devious look in his eyes and a smile on his face, one that made Sam thankful every day that he was on their side.

"William, Samuel go on. I have this one."

Without a backwards glance their leader nodded and ran past his attacker, Sam wanted to shout a warning as the bigger man obviously had no intention to let that happen, but Sebastian was already in motion. With lightning speed he delivered a powerful kick to the man's wrists, it didn't hurt him by any means, but it did disrupt his swing, so his blade went easily over Will's head.

"Go on, boy, I have no need for help with an oversized brute like this," he said with a smile.

Sam dashed by as well, but the swordsman didn't even acknowledge him, it seemed that a dismissal of his battle prowess was unacceptable, because that bloodthirsty gaze was now on Sebastian.

Desperate to move on but fearful for his mentor, Sam lingered as Sebastian said something, no doubt infuriating, making the large man swing in a blind rage. The wiry man evaded the blow, letting the blade sink into the floor and then counter struck by easily slipping his blade into the man's shoulder through the joints in his armor. There was a roar of pain and a jovial laugh, and Sam knew he would be fine.

Turning, he ran as fast as he could to catch up with Will and quickly found him at the end of a long hall, face to face with King Abrams. For a brief moment he wondered why they were merely having a standoff, but then he heard it, the squall of the child in his arms.

"A child, Archibald? Is this how you want to be remembered? As the man who hid behind his infant son?" Will asked in a tone that was both shocked and disappointed.

"I am not hiding!" the king snapped.

Sam noticed for the first time how pale and weak he looked, and though he had no idea what activity the other man had been engaging in during the night he was excessively winded and sweaty. He supposed it could have been from rushing to prepare since he wore a sloppily assembled suit of armor and sword belt that left the weapon dangling far too low.

"What would you call it then?"

"I am protecting my son from your damned attack!" he shouted, his face contorting into a wince from the effort, "I fear no man! Especially not you, William!"

"Then put the child down and face me, I promise no harm will come to your son."

"As if I would trust your word!"

"So you are hiding-"

"Shut your filthy mouth!" he screamed, groping uselessly for his sword several times before his fingers found it and he was able to draw steel.

"Why not leave the boy in his room if you wish to protect him so?" Will continued as he took a step closer to the crazed man, "If I were trying to protect a child of mine I wouldn't hold him to my chest in a sword fight."

"And since you have no son I will not concern myself with what you would or would not do!"

The older man shrugged, "Maybe not, but I have been wed for only three years and have spent one mostly away from my wife to fight this war, you had how long to produce your _one_ heir?"

It seemed such a trivial point and quite unlike Will to poke at another man's impotency, but then he saw the game being played. He, like Sebastian, was baiting his opponent into making a mistake, they had all heard of the king's foul temper and if he delivered another pride smashing blow the child may be simply thrown aside for an attack.

Sam moved closer, ready to catch the crying boy should it come to that, but as he stepped closer it occurred to him that the game could work two ways. The baby was a poor shield and the king had to know that, the only reason he would truly have to resort to such a thing was if it was only temporary.

If he only needed them held back for a short while.

By the time he realized what was happening it was too late. Behind him a man clubbed him so hard he saw spots and as he fell he saw a large, beady eyed man that was as big as the other guard Sebastian fought throw Will easily to the ground.

He watched helplessly as the king abandoned his crying child to scurry away down the hall with a final, " Karofsky, kill them!"

The man tried to finish the fight quickly, but Will scrambled away and turned to Sam, "Don't let him get away!"

Since he still had no sense of up or down Sam splayed his palms open on the carpeting and pushed against the floor, knowing to do so would send him up. The world pitched and turned as he got to his feet, and for a heartbeat he turned to follow the king, but instead he grabbed the child off the floor from the feet of the two battling men and dashed into the nearest room.

It contained a bed and he wrapped the baby in the sheets keeping his arms and legs tight before stowing him in the center. The child screamed even louder at being left alone, but at least he was safe from being underfoot. Quickly he dashed in the direction the king had gone and followed the hall he had taken back out into the courtyard that was now littered with countless bodies.

There were a few scuffles still happening but most had moved elsewhere, making it quite easy to see the king scurrying through the shadows. Sam was a little surprised that he hadn't made it further, but didn't bewail the fact as he dashed to him ready to deal a killing blow, but it wasn't so easy.

The man may have been winded but he was not dead, he spun around and struck with deadly accuracy missing by a hair as Sam leapt back just in time. The resignation to fight filled the king's eyes and he knew Archibald had no intention of running or stalling, it was his plan to make quick work of the man who had halted him.

It took every ounce of concentration he had to parry the attacks that came at him suddenly, and with a keen ferocity. Sebastian had always told him to never let his opponent take ground, to only ever retreat when it is planned and serves a greater purpose, and it was something he almost never failed to do, but in this exchange the king drove him back with ease.

Whatever the man was- petty, cruel, impotent - it could not be said that he was a poor fighter. Even Sam couldn't find an opening to unleash his strength, every swing he made was parried and countered, and when one particular counter caused the blade to bite into the flesh above and below his eye he worried that he may have taken far more than he could handle. Stumbling back, he looked around as half of his sight went red. He looked for someone, Finn, Sebastian, Will, Kurt anyone to save him, but the only people around were locked in their own fights and hadn't the time to save him.

The king seemed to sense his reserve and advanced quickly, his breathing more labored than ever and his face almost startlingly pale. It was something that confused him up until the final step where Sam noted that he had a slight limp and was almost curling his left arm around his side. He knew to test his guess was foolish when death was a mere step away, but he had no other option than to blindly swing his sword. Seeing the brash move the king parried it without thinking, allowing Sam to safely extend his leg and kick the man as hard as he could in the side.

The effect was almost instant.

Archibald fell to his knees his mouth open in a silent scream as his sword fell to the ground, an action over accentuated by an earth shattering crash from somewhere behind him.

With a trembling hand King Abrams reached for his sword again and Sam reared back and kicked him again as hard as he could, his foot connecting painfully with the man's armored side. And, armor or no, the king crumbled, falling to his back, raising the hand that wasn't cradled to his side.

"I yield!" he shouted.

Sam grabbed his sword from the blood covered ground and stood above the ruler of his lands, victorious. His head was spinning, the wound on his eye now numb with the rush of battle; they had captured the castle.

It was over.

The rule of the Abrams family was finally over and he couldn't have been more relieved.

The errant thought did occur to him that he should go in search of Will, but he couldn't leave the king alone to possibly weasel away, he would guard his catch until relieved of the burden.

Kneeling he looked down at the panting ex-ruler, "Where is Santana?" he asked, thinking it best to concentrate on his next goal right away.

"Who?" the pained man asked, exasperated.

"Santana, she was the field hand to my family before she was traded here."

The man continued to look quite annoyed until his breathing unexpectedly stilled and Sam could see a glimmer of recognition in his eyes before they flicked to some point behind him. Nervous from the last unseen assault he turned quickly but only saw Sebastian approaching, the man was polishing his sword and walking with a casual saunter, however, this was a little odd since blood was trickling from his hairline and he was covered from head to toe in a thick layer of dust and rubble.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, glancing back to make sure the other man hadn't moved.

"Fine, dear boy, are you? You look terrible," Sebastian laughed, giving a nod to his eye.

"Maybe so, but Archibald seems to not be faring better," he said pointing to the wounded man.

"Oh, caught the king, did you?" his mentor asked rhetorically as he looked down at the once ruler as though he were freshly caught game, "My, my. If killing her enslaver doesn't win you favor with your woman I don't know what will. I am a little jealous, though, I would have liked to have tested my skills against him."

A regretful sigh left Sebastian before Sam's muddled mind caught up with him, "Will needs help!"

"No, he doesn't, I saw him with Finn a moment ago. They were searching for the queen, I think she may have escaped without her husband," he said, his words causing more of the dust covering him to fall.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Oh, this? I got the brute to bring the ceiling down on his own head, I don't think he's dead, but his legs and arms are crushed so I felt it safe to move on."

Sam's good eye widened, "How did you manage that?"

Sebastian took the time to dust off his hair and let a self important smirk rest on his face, "I merely led him to strike the support columns in the room, quite easy really."

A skeptical voice chimed in, "Doesn't look like it," Kurt said as he approached, his quiver empty and his bow showing evidence of having been used as a bludgeon.

"What, this?" Sebastian asked dabbing at his bloodied brow, "Well, it's easier to dodge a bastard sword than falling rubble."

"Hmmm," was Kurt's only reply.

Sam looked back to Archibald and saw the man's breathing had steadied slightly and his eyes held a little more focus, so once again he knelt and asked, "Where is Santana?"

"You can't expect me to know every servant in this castle," the man growled back.

"No, but I would expect you to know the ones closest to you, she cared for the son you needed so badly and you don't know her name?" Kurt said irritably.

"She may have been sent away, so many come and go from here I cannot recall every one."

It was then that the questioning was interrupted by footsteps coming towards them. Sam turned once again to see Will and Finn walking towards them with a man he had never seen before. A man that the king seemed quite eager to see, something that made Sam immediately distrustful.

"Who is this?" Sebastian asked before Sam had the chance.

"My name is Matthew," the reply was quick, prompt and polite.

The man showed none of the fear those who weren't soldiers had and was far better spoken, "Are you a lord?" Sam asked.

"No, merely a servant of Castle Abrams and the king," he said nodding to the wounded man on the ground.

"He got that brute to stand down," Will said, rubbing his neck in memory of the recent attack.

Finn seemed irritated that he hadn't gotten in on any of the major action, but kept his mouth shut about it for once.

"I arranged for all of the gate guards to stand down as well, though there were some I had to force."

There was no elaboration needed to catch his meaning, but at least now Sam knew how they had gained entry so easily. With that statement Matthew and the king locked eyes, both men seeming to understand something that left the servant looking wry and the king dreadful.

"If you're a personal servant to the king you must know Santana," Sam said, but he did not like the way the man's eyes darkened.

"I _knew_ her. "

The king coughed and attempted to sit up, "Matthew, stop-" his plea was cut short by Sam driving his boot into the armor again.

"Calm yourself, he's a prisoner not a dog," Finn warned.

Ignoring him, Sam turned to Matthew, "Where is she?" he asked, almost unreasonably eager to see her once more.

Turning, the servant pointed to the top of the wall, "There."

He had to crane his neck to see what was above him, but soon he was able to make out two figures. At first they appeared to be standing oddly on the wall, then he saw they were tied to a cross. Then he saw they were headless.

Kurt made a small noise in his throat and Sebastian let out a long, low hiss, Sam just felt the nausea that had threatened him come back tenfold.

He was too late.

It hadn't mattered how he fought or what he had sacrificed or that he had pulled off the impossible. _He was too late_.

His father had disowned him for taking up arms against the crown, he had spent his winter watching a race between starvation and freezing as the thing that would kill him. He had trained until his body felt like minced meat and had come into this hopeless battle to find her, winning despite all odds, to set her free like he promised he would.

**_And he was too late._**

An enraged scream bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him as he turned on the panting, cowardly man and raised his sword, fully intent on killing him. He wanted nothing more than to slice him from navel to chin, but Will and Finn rushed forward to hold him back.

"Stop! Sam, stop!" Will shouted, but the younger man was now seeing red with both eyes and it wasn't from a bleeding wound.

Finn yanked him off his feet placing him a good distance from the wounded prisoner, "Stay there," he commanded.

The blonde man stayed where he was put but stood rigid, ready for the chance to end Archibald as quickly as possible.

"Why?" Will asked looking down at his one time adversary, "What was your reason for this?"

"She was having carnal relations with my wife!" the king snapped as he held desperately to his side.

Kurt gasped once again, and Finn chocked on his own breath, Sebastian merely shrugged as if that were hardly an excuse and Will stood there with a look of shock.

Their leader turned to Matthew who watched the entire scene with indifference and asked, "Is this true?"

"Yes, the queen confessed as much which is why they are both up there."

Will turned to look at the gruesome scene once again, "I… are you sure?" he asked Matthew again.

"Quite."

Rubbing the back of his head, he turned apologetically to Sam, "That is a punishable offence-"

"What?!" Sam roared.

Holding up his hands he went on, "I am not at all condoning what he did. It is not how I would handle Emma were the same to happen with her and I would want to ride with no man that would, but you know that it was never my intent to come here and kill the king. We are here to overthrow the throne, and it will go far towards making peace with the people of this kingdom if we do not murder their ruler."

"Truly? Because it was my understanding they hated him," Kurt said, his voice hard and unforgiving.

With a sigh, Will ran his hands over his face, "Yes, but there is still his father to contend with, a man who I have respected my whole life, and I would like very much to not kill his son if I can avoid it. What he did, while cruel, was not outside his right as king, especially if she admitted to the crime. We cannot judge him now based on past deeds that were within his right."

"Can't we, William?" Sebastian asked with a bored drawl, "Isn't that all we've done? Are we not here because of his past wrongs that were done within his right as king?"

"I have a son," Archibald panted as the pain from his most recent kick subsided, "I am the only parent left to him, please let me go with him and we won't return to this kingdom. Ever. You have my word."

"A son he left in the midst of a sword battle so he could escape!" Sam shouted.

"I am wounded, your _field hand_ stabbed me for no reason whatsoever, I knew you wouldn't harm him so I left him in your care-"

"Liar!" he roared, loudly enough that Finn had to place a hand on his chest to keep him in place.

"I must agree with the boy on this," Sebastian said, "You know as well as I that to leave the entirety of this family alive with resources across the sea is definitively foolish."

Will sighed, and rubbed his temples, "I know."

"I suggest we kill him as well," Kurt said, drumming his fingers on his bow.

"Spoken like a true Hummel," Sebastian laughed.

Before the smaller man could give a reply Will turned abruptly to Matthew, "What would you have us do?"

The group fell silent and even the king's pained pants slowed, the man turned his eyes to those watching him, looking confused, "In regards to what?"

"To him," Will clarified pointing to the man lying before them, "If you are his servant then you know what is best in this case. You have helped us this far and I am hoping you will be willing to help more."

"Honestly? You will put it to this man to make the call you are afraid to make?" Sebastian snorted.

"Watch your tongue, Smythe," Finn snapped.

"Lord Smythe to you as well, and I am not in the habit of watching my own tongue, but you are welcome to if you like. I will even take suggestions for activities for it to do should its normal fare begin to bore you."

"Silence," Will snapped, "I ask, because I know what this man is, but if those closest to him have seen anything within him worth saving I cannot in good conscience condemn him."

Sam watched the king try to crawl closer to his servant, muttering apologies and promises, Matthew looked back to Will, "I have not seen any good in some time," he said easily.

Their leader's face fell, "Has he done nothing to earn him one modicum of mercy?"

Matthew looked deep into Archibald's wide eyes as he said, "Maybe, but not within my sight. Besides, mercy is for kings and kings alone to give. It is not something slaves have the right to give out or request of their masters."

The words made the other man frown, "Of course it is, but worry yourself over that no longer, you are no longer a slave of this castle. You are free to leave or stay as I am aware this is your only home."

"And what of Archibald," Sam barked, sick of the issue being glanced over.

A heavy sigh escaped Will, "We must execute him."

"Why?" Sebastian asked, and when everyone gave him a confused stare he continued, "I mean why a formal execution? William, you have no desire to upset the locals by killing their king and making a spectacle of it will do just that. Why not just hand him over to the boy?" he asked, jerking his head to Sam.

"I agree," Kurt said quickly, "He doesn't deserve the effort it would take to organize."

Will looked to Matthew who seemed to be uninterested in the conversation and then to Finn who shrugged.

"Let him," Sebastian chimed in again, "You know as well as I what he sacrificed for this one woman, let him have this. Vengeance is a fool's errand, but sometimes it is necessary so a man can keep his soul in tact, don't break him by taking this chance from him. Given what I heard about how he treated his queen it was no wonder she sought solace in the arms of a woman, and I think Samuel here would repay the kindness our former king showed his wife."

Sam's body was taught to the point of discomfort as he waited for Will's answer, his eyes firmly on fearful grey ones as he awaited to hear if he would be allowed to even partially redeem himself. He knew what he would do if given the chance, he already had an appropriate reciprocation in mind for how Santana was mistreated.

"Take him," Will finally sighed, "Quickly, before I change my mind."

With a great yank, Sam pulled himself free of Finn's lumbering presence as he grabbed Archibald by his armor and dragged him to the nearest, saddled horse he could find lumbering through the piles of bodies.

It might have been odd to a different person that not a single subject paid his screams any mind as he was thrown, bound wrist to ankle, on the back of a horse and taken through the town. Not a single person protested his capture, they merely watched with detached disinterest as he rode by and away from the castle.

Maybe no one cared, or maybe no one was brave enough to stop the determined young man riding in front who had rage in his eyes.

Sam rode far out of sight of the castle and rode some more, he traveled until morning broke over the plains and kept going as the sun made its way across the sky. The only sounds that accompanied him were Archibald's tired screams between moments where unconsciousness would take him, the gentle clop of his horses hooves and the blaring silence the sorrow in his own chest brought.

When the sun began its journey back down to the ground and his horse began to breathe raggedly he began to look for a place to stop, finding it in the form of a deep ravine. Hopping off his steed, he decided the crevice was deep enough to serve his purposes as it was several dozen heads deep.

What he was doing was dangerous, he knew that, but in many ways he wouldn't have been too upset to meet his end. There was nothing left for him. Archibald had seen to that.

Angrily he pulled the man from the horse and let him land heavily on the ground, smiling broadly when he woke screaming. His wound had bled all over his horse's flank and that wouldn't do. Taking his time he removed the king's armor and tossed it into the ravine and removed the man's shirt, a sleeping shirt in fact, using it to wipe as much of the blood from the animal as could be gotten before tossing it down as well.

He then sat him up and looked into his tearful grey eyes, "You will think this revenge, but don't, because it is not. For me it is redemption, as meager as it will be, and for you it is nothing but what you deserve."

"I… I never touched her…" Archibald panted, "Your woman… I never-"

"It doesn't matter, you called for another to end her life and that is reason enough for me."

Sam felt no remorse when he kicked the man, still bound hand to food, into the ravine, nor when he heard the dull thud of his body hitting the bottom or the crack of some unfortunate bone. He sat and listened to his cries as the sun continued to set lower, instead feeling the sorrow stored in him, though he refused to cry, because he didn't deserve to, not yet. Not until it was all over.

Darkness began to creep upon them and Sam set to building a fire with the thin branches that had been scattered about from the harsh winds and the flint and steel in his saddlebag. There was a small portion of food available inside, but he didn't take it, he merely sat by the blaze with his horse, watching the fire lick at the wood, adding more every now and again.

And then the howl of wolves reached his ears.

His steed reared up but seemed to somehow know better than to leave the safety the flame offered. Even though it almost bolted once again once the wolves followed the scent of blood to Archibald and the first blood curdling scream floated to the heavens.

Without turning from the flames Sam reached for the horses reigns to pet its head slowly as he heard the animals eat, and their prey scream.

He listened until there was nothing to do but hear them eat.

And when the wolves howled their satisfaction he felt the tension leave him. It was replaced by an ache that reached every part of his body and made his heart beat as though it were pumping molasses.

His task finished, he left the fire burning as he rode away into the night, feeling the pain of losing a beloved friend, the sting of his cut eye and the emptiness that he had hoped would vanish with Archibald's death.

It didn't.

It followed him back and ate him like the wolves had eaten the now dead ruler.

Winter and Summer saw ten full rotations before Sam could ever get himself to leave the castle and wander past the border of the river to the open space by the cliff face.

In that time the king sovereign, lacking soldiers and having no home to retreat to was felled by his enemies before William could ever send conditions for his return. Upon learning that the Abrams kingdom found itself in the center of a reform that those responsible were not ready to make. Kurt oversaw negotiations for land divisions eventually leading to talk of succession and kings, William declined the position and offered it to Finn who seemed more than ready to take over. Of course it was Sebastian who objected, but surprisingly Sam who suggested the people of each region chose who would govern over them.

The suggestion was met with resistance by many who still clung to the old ways, but enough people agreed with the idea that it became so. And since he had come up with it Sam rather accidentally became the land's first Praefecus, a title suggested by Matthew, and one Sam couldn't say with any amount of ease.

He negotiated with the other Praefecus to perfect trading between the lands, wrote laws to help govern the people, and even had the castle rebuilt to house those in need of a home.

Over the years he helped feed the poor, rid the land of slavers, and even appointed others to power to keep him in check should he ever go astray. Though he never married he raised Samuel on his own, something he became determined to do when Matthew mentioned how Santana loved the boy.

The former prince grew up strong, healthy, and very much loved, only knowing that his mother died to a cruel man but couldn't have cared for him more. He even told the boy of Santana and how she was like a second mother to him, Samuel would always swear he remembered them, Sam doubted that very much but never said so.

His leadership yielded changes never dreamed of in his lifetime, his life had been threatened by extremists, countless women had vied for his attentions with no success, he had been through war and death and blood.

Yet still walking across the river was the toughest challenge he'd had to face in ages.

Because at the cliff face was where Brittany and Santana had been laid to rest.

And after all this time it was a failure that was hard to face. Even more so when he learned of what they shared.

The realization that their relationship was more than just physical had surprised him when he was told, but he hadn't cared that Santana had loved a woman. If anything he had been so happy she had ever decided to open her heart in that way.

And it all could have been saved had he done better.

Those were the thoughts he had to push away when he finally did visit them, their graves marked with thick stone, their names neatly chiseled on the front.

He stood between them, thinking that now the pain wouldn't be as sharp, that now it wouldn't make him feel so useless. But it did. Despite all he had done since, it did.

Kneeling, he placed a flower down for each of them before clearing his throat, tears already stinging his eyes.

"I know I was late coming and I'm even later coming here now, but…" he stopped, because he didn't know how to excuse himself, "Santana, you know I miss you, and Brittany I miss you too even though we've never met. Your son, he is such a joy and if he is anything like you, then I know you were a woman to be deeply missed."

He stopped and cleared his throat, averting his teary eyes to the sea to wipe them discretely.

"Santana, since then a lot has changed. Your friend… well, and mine now, Puck, he left some time ago to be with a woman he has long loved, Sunshine went with him though he did send word to me some seasons back to tell me she had gone her own way. Matthew has gone as well, he was an excellent advisor, far wiser than the king's actions would lead one to believe. He said he needed to travel, to visit old friends, make new ones, and live up to your expectations. Whatever those may be. If they are from you I suspect that man has a long, hard journey ahead," he laughed at himself, cursing silently at his eyes as they wouldn't stay dry.

"I just want you both to know that I'm sorry, I'm told it isn't my fault every day, even Samuel has told me. But I still feel that it is something I must say, especially after Matthew informed me of his suspicions that Santana named the prince." His eyes shifted to the spot Santana lay, a small smile gracing his face, "I didn't believe him until I found your old rooms and saw that you kept your clothes from the vineyard wedged under your bed."

Now his tears fell freely and he didn't care.

"You never forgot me, and I honestly thought you had. I merely wanted to make good on a promise to a loved friend, but I never suspected you would even bother to remember that time. And I'm sorry because maybe if I knew you were waiting I could have made myself get here faster."

A weak sigh came from him as he finally wiped his tears again and turned to Brittany.

"And to you, thank you, for loving her, for seeing that she was never alone. You did everything I couldn't and it cost your life, but please know I will care for Samuel until my dying day. I will never fail someone I love again, you have my word."

And with that he stood and left, his heart felt less heavy as did his arms when Samuel spotted him upon his return and leapt into them laughing happily. The boy didn't make his heart sink with the pain of failure, instead it soared with the hope of promise.

The land fared well under the Sam who had failed his friend, but it flourished under the Sam who was finally able to forgive himself.

* * *

Los Angeles, California

"And you bought the tickets in advance? I don't want to hear later how you can't make it because you waited too long."

Santana sighed and rolled her eyes heavily, "Yes, mami, I have my tickets."

"Don't roll your eyes," her mother snapped and the young woman held her phone from her face wondering if the voice chat was on. It wasn't. Apparently MaribelLopez was a mother, doctor, and telepath…

"I wasn't, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything, I'll walk if I have to," she assured.

"You had better! Oh, and be sure to get an extra ticket just in case."

Santana frowned, "Of what?"

"Have you forgotten already?" her mother trilled, "My birthday is on Valentine's day so if you should meet someone your father and I would love to meet her and the trip would make an excellent gift."

"How is a trip to Ohio to meet someone's parents a gift? Besides you expect me to give this present out to someone I _may_ meet between now and then? At best that's a third date, that is a terrible idea, look, mami, I love you, but I gotta go. My break was over… around when we started this twenty minute conversation."

"Don't be grumpy with me, I'm turning forty," Maribel whined.

"Forty-five," Santana laughed.

"Don't correct your mother," she chastised good naturedly, "I love you and I will see you in four weeks, si?"

"Si, mami, bye," she said quickly, hanging up before her mother could rope her into another conversation.

The brief reprieve was interrupted by Sam who slid into the break room, a wide smile on his wide lips, "Sooo, you gonna see patients now or should we just close the clinic until you're done talking with your great aunt Glinda?" he joked.

"What's up next, Trouty Mouth?" she asked, ignoring his banter.

"Would it hurt you to call me Nurse Evans or Evans, or even nurse?"

"It might, what about-"

"Don't say Nurse Trouty Mouth, it's beneath you, you can do better."

"What if I call you Nurse Angelina Jolie?"

"I doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, besides if I were you I would call me Nurse Evans as a thank you for this present," he said handing her new patient file.

"More work, why thank you, Nurse Jolie."

"Keep talking, but I snatched this chick out from under St. James, just for you, you'll love her."

Santana's mouth fell open, "You and my mother! I swear between the two of you I don't think I need ever search for a girlfriend ever again," she growled, marching out the door to deal with what appeared to amounted to a sprained finger.

Sam followed behind her at an even pace, a smile on his face.

"You both need to keep your grubby little fingers out of my love life," she barked at him, more irritated by his smug little grin than his attempts at matchmaking, "If I needed your help I would… ask… for…it…"

Her sentence died on her lips as she opened the door to see her patient. What she found was a blonde woman sitting on the examination table who somehow, in a t-shirt and blue jeans, managed to steal all her air.

"You're welcome," Sam sang as he walked past.

Shaking her head, Santana stepped in and pulled the door shut gaining the woman's attention which was even more devastating, because her eyes were a deep blue and even from across the room she swore she could see eternity in them.

Without saying a word she crossed the room and was before this vision of a person sooner than she was ready. Santana had nothing to say but wanted to say everything, she wanted to hug her, kiss her, and show her how glad she was that she found her…

But who in the hell was she?

Shaking her head again, she looked down at the forgotten folder in her hand, very aware of the intense blue eyes watching her since they were making her forget how to read.

"Do I know you?" the woman asked, her voice almost excited in the way people got when they thought they were about to have their sneaking suspicions confirmed.

"I, uh," Santana's voice was raspier than usual so she gave a fake cough to cover, "I don't think so."

"Are you sure? You look super familiar, but I think I'd remember someone as pretty as you."

Santana fumbled the papers in her hands and growled irritably at herself as she stooped down to picked them up. Her body seemed to rebel against all things that weren't pinning the woman to the table and kissing her breathless. After a calming breath she stood and tossed the folder onto the counter before she messed up and dropped the whole thing.

"So what's your name?" she asked, becoming even more annoyed when her voice cracked.

"Brittany S. Pierce, what's yours?"

The name was common, she had known more Brittanys in her lifetime than she would care to count, but somehow _that_ name, with _this_ woman made it the most beautiful name she had ever heard.

"Dr. Lopez," she replied quickly, "What seems to be the problem?"

"My finger hurts a little," Brittany said, holding out her right hand to be examined.

Santana merely observed it, seeing that her pointer finger did look a little red, possibly swollen. There could have been a hairline fracture, a break was unlikely but not impossible. It would be easier to tell if she were to simply feel it, but at the moment the doctor was rather wary of physical contact with the woman that affected her so.

"Um, does it hurt?"

"Not a lot," she sighed, "I didn't think I needed to come, but my friend Tina said I had to come 'cause otherwise the company would be labeled or something."

"Liable?"

"I guess; hey, is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?"

Santana gulped and took a step back, "Let's focus on your hand right now," she said, though she was mesmerized by the blue eyes that stared back at her.

"You are always difficult when it comes to feelings, aren't you?"

"Wh-wha-" she sputtered and glanced to the door, convinced this was some sort of prank.

Sam had spiked her coffee and he and St. James hired this pretty blonde to come in here and make her crazy. That was the only logical explanation and it wasn't even close to logical.

"It's okay if you don't want to kiss me, but you have this look in your eyes like you really want to, and I know I want to kiss you."

"Did Sam hire you?"

"No, I don't think so… who's Sam?"

Waving her hands Santana tried to get a reign on things, "Alright, back up! First off, what in the world did you mean earlier? About me and feelings? Because I don't know who told you what, but I am _not_ difficult."

She laughed, "It's just a feeling I have."

"What exactly is it that you do for a living?" the doctor asked, waiting patiently for the words practical joker or call girl to come up.

"I'm a teacher at a preschool. But what I really like doing is dancing, and singing, though I'm not very good, and I volunteer a lot at the community center."

"Uh-huh, and how did this happen?" Santana asked pointing in the general direction of her hand.

"Well there's a toy donation place at the community center and I take all the crappy toys people give away cause they're busted or gross and make new ones for when Christmas comes. I hurt my finger taking one apart though."

An unlikely story, yet too random to be false…

Taking another breath Santana soothed her frayed nerves and decided to get back on the ball, she had been off kilter since she stepped in the room, she was already flustered and her patient was a little odd, that was all.

Six minutes on a sprained finger, St. James would laugh her out of the building.

At least she thought it was a sprained finger, the only way to know was to go over and touch it.

_Or take X-Rays._

Shaking her head a final time she squared her shoulders and walked right up to the exasperating woman and took her hand.

And just like that she was gone once more, the pull of proximity was a little too strong with the addition of touch, and with Brittany sitting before her looking so very kissable how was she supposed to _not_ do it?

So she did, she leaned forward and kissed the woman who, up until minutes ago, had been a complete stranger. And yet when their lips met it didn't matter, because they somehow were strangers no longer. She _knew_ this woman, _knew_ she was a good and kind soul, _knew_ she would do anything for her, Santana also _knew_ that she felt the same.

They kissed deeply, Brittany's hands running easily through Santana's hair as they did, their tongues met and explored until air was an absolute necessity.

The connection was broken with the utmost reluctance, because when Brittany held her close she felt whole, complete in a way she didn't know there was to be, like discovering there were two more floors to a house she thought only had one.

"I think your finger's fine," Santana panted, her forehead pressed against Brittany's, nearly purring as the blonde deftly massaged her scalp.

"It definitely feels better," she said with a lazy smile before giving another swift kiss.

Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to calm her thudding heart, "I don't usually do this. Kiss random patients I mean."

"I'm not random," Brittany laughed sweetly, "I'm the person you're supposed to kiss always, I can feel it."

Santana's eyebrows shot up, "Am I now?"

Brittany smiled and bit her lip, nodding quickly.

_And when she acts that adorable how can I argue?_

The doctor took another deep breath that did nothing to clear the feeling kissing Brittany had brought on, and backed up, putting a respectable distance between them. Once more she took the woman's hand in her own and used every ounce of willpower available to make sure Brittany's finger was in working order before taking another large step back.

"It is thoroughly unprofessional of me to have done… any of what just happened, I apologize, your finger is fine, you are free to go."

Brittany's face fell, "But I don't want to."

"I'm afraid you have to, I'm already jeopardizing my job making out with you in here."

With a huff Brittany stood and walked to the door, "I'll go, but don't think I'll give up on you," she said as if it were a threat before calmly leaving.

Santana watched her, leaning out the room as the blonde exited the front doors, followed by three others she assumed Brittany had come with, Sam spotted the other woman leaving and walked over to his friend.

"She's gone already? Did you get her number?"

"Nurse Big Lips, it is against policy to flirt with patients in the examining rooms."

He frowned, "Nurse Big Lips? That's just lazy, and whatever to the policy, I break that rule, like, constantly."

"Well, I am not you," she said as she eased herself into the hallway.

"Clearly, I would have gotten them digit-" he stopped as all of a sudden Santana took off out of the hospital at top speed.

The brunette burst through the doors and saw a familiar blonde walking towards a car where others waited. Santana didn't exactly relish the idea of an audience, but she hardly cared enough to spare the others another glance. She ran to Brittany with all her might, so much so she hardly had enough air to call out her name, but it wouldn't have mattered, the other woman seemed to sense she was there.

"Hey, uh,… since you're… no longer… a patient… and we're in the parking lot… wanna… wanna go out and get coffee… sometime?" she panted, her speedy sprint leaving her far more winded and less charming than she planned.

Brittany smiled a brilliant smile that made her labored breathing even more difficult, "Of course!" she squealed, easily scooping up the small doctor and kissing her.

Once again she was lost in the sensation of being complete, of finding the missing piece, one that had been gone for far too long. Santana wasn't one for mushy feelings, Brittany had been right in her assessment that when it came to those kinds of things she could be a bit difficult, but something about this woman overrode all that. For some reason the urgent need to hold her wasn't making her want to pack her bags and move to a different state.

When they broke apart Santana gave her a smitten smile, "Santana, by the way," she said backing up slightly, afraid of the spectacle she'd make if she stayed too close.

"I feel like I already knew that," Brittany said thoughtfully.

"I feel like I already know _you_," Santana breathed, marveling at how captivating the blonde's eyes were compared to everything else she had ever seen.

"I feel like I'm gonna barf," said a small voice behind them.

With a quirked eyebrow she looked to the car a few feet away and saw a small Asian boy being rebuked, by a woman she presumed was his mother, for interrupting. And if his lean frame and round face were anything to go by, the man watching them casually as he leaned against the car, was his father.

"Sorry, these are my friends Tina and Mike and that's their son Warren."

The couple waved quietly to her, Mike lazily with a kind smile and Tina quickly as she policed her son into doing the same. Santana waved back shyly, feeling like she was making a total ass out of herself, but when Brittany turned to leave she didn't care as she grabbed the blonde's hand spinning her around.

"Wait," she said, melting again as Brittany's eyes held hers, "How do I get in touch with you?"

She asked the question already hearing Sam telling her to just take her number from the form she filled out upon entering, but this way was far better as it involved holding her hand.

Surprisingly the question made the blonde giggle, "I put my card in your pocket when you kissed me the first time." Blushing, Santana reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a card decorated in ballerina slippers and cat paws, "That's my cell, call me anytime, preferably soon."

"Come on, Britt, we gotta go!" Warren called impatiently, earning him another lecture from his mother.

"Tina promised him he could look at dogs at the local shelter if we had time after my doctor's visit," she informed Santana quietly.

"Don't let me keep you then," she laughed.

Brittany laughed too but not before giving her one last, lingering kiss that caught the brunette completely by surprise. And as she stood in the parking lot watching the mysterious yet familiar woman drive away, holding an adorably decorated business card she made a mental note to buy that second ticket to maybe in this case meeting the parents on the third date was just about right.

The End.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again to my Beta **chombiric**!

I am fully aware of how short the drama fuse can be when it comes to Brittana since the show seems to be geared towards making all the wrong moves so I decided to offer immediate relief to the heartache by releasing the last two chapters at once. I hope my band-aid was sufficient.

The thing to keep in mind for this story is that realistically there was no happy end to be had for them in the first timeline. And the overall point was that Santana was the very key to the downfall of the kingdom since she was behind every major event that caused it from the beheading to Sam's victory, even to his reason for being there.

This fic had a lot of incarnations but the longest standing version was called Southern Hospitality, it took place on a plantation during the civil war and had a similar format only Beiste, Sue, Finn and Quinn played a way more major role.

The end of that story was a kind of 'And they all get away and live happily ever after'. It wasn't a bad concept but after I finished my outline I looked at what I had made and realized it bored me, like for real. So I trashed it.

Then I was half asleep with the tv on and Man on Fire was playing, the vocals at the end of that movie triggered a series of thoughts that brought you this fic in it's entirety. I always wanted to uses a reincarnation theme somewhere but didn't really have a story it worked for even amongst my original plots so that plus Southern Hospitality and some creative changes inspired by the music is where this came from.

Follow me on tumblr if you wanna get updates on my upcoming projects or progress on current ones (info's in my profile).

Reviews are, as always, welcome.


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